


come on,  make it easy, say I never mattered

by hamstergyu



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Violence, also some light cameos of other characters, some mikorei if you squint real hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-05-25 03:26:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 59,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14968106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamstergyu/pseuds/hamstergyu
Summary: He looks at the way Saru’s lips tremble around his smirk and  the word ‘traitor’ dies on his tongue.  Yata sees the cracks now – he’s not that hot headed dumbass anymore.Yata uncurls his fist and counts to ten under his breath, “You’re right, I held you back.”Or: A Pacific Rim AU no one asked for





	1. i

_The rain soaks through eleven-year old Yata’s brand new middle school jacket.  He bites his lip and holds back tears threatening to spill.  He’s a big boy now, he can’t cry.  His lip still bleeds from where his old father punched it, and his heart still aches from his new father patching it._

_His mother looked tired as he wandered in with blood caked on his teeth. “Stop going to him Misaki,” she tells him.  She runs fingers through his hair and they feel cold and all Misaki can do to stop the bile rising in his throat is run and pray they never find him._

_“You’re getting wet.”_

_Yata snarls as proud and angry as an eleven-year old boy can, glaring up at the responder, “So? Why do you care?”_

_It’s also a boy – same uniform – probably same age, Yata notes. “I don’t care,” the boy sneers and he shoves his hands in his pockets._

_“You’re getting wet, too.” Yata huffs._

_The boy sits next to him and for a long time they listen to the sound of pattering rain and say nothing.  Yata thinks this kid is a jerk, but there’s something else, hidden beneath that. “Yata Misaki,” he says and holds out a hand._

_The boy scoffs and doesn’t take it._

_The rain clears up._

_“Fushimi Saruhiko.” He leaves._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yata rests his cheek against Kusanagi’s precious wooden bar with his beanie yanked over his eyes.   

 

Kusanagi tugs the beanie back, runs his fingers through Yata’s hair and chuckles, “Want a refill, Yata-chan?”

 

Yata doesn’t lift his head, he glares from Kusanagi’s soft smile to his watered-down vodka.  The ice melted maybe twenty minutes ago, but Yata sipped from it only twice.  He hasn’t got Kusanagi’s acquired taste for the stuff, regardless of how expensive, it burns going down, and if Yata isn’t careful – it usually burns coming back up.  “No,” he hears his own voice rumble against the counter, “It tastes like shit,”

 

Kusanagi doesn’t give him back his beanie – he flicks his forehead instead and Yata opts for shutting his eyes.  “Have you talked to Anna recently?”

 

That grabs his attention. He doesn’t shoot up with the vigor he once had – but Kusanagi chuckles, a gentle smile splaying on his face. Kusanagi always has that smile that warms his heart and sparks enthusiasm in just the right ways, but these days, even for Yata – it’s hard.  Yata clicks his tongue, “I haven’t talked to her in a year,”

 

“Oh?” Kusanagi drawls, he pins Yata with a look pretending as if he didn’t know.  Yata huffs – he snatches his beanie and yanks it down over his face again and moves to leaning on his elbows instead.  It’s a petty retaliation – Kusanagi _hates_ elbows on his bar counter.  “She misses you, you know.”

 

“I have no reason to talk to Anna these days,” Yata mumbles against his arms.

 

Kusanagi dumps Yata’s untouched vodka and starts to hum as he works through the dishes.  “The Kaiju are getting stronger,” he says.  “Anna has a lot to say about that,”

 

Yata ignores the pang in his gut and tightens his arms around his face.  “Mikoto and the idiot with the blue hair seem to be handling it,” He says.  The words come out muffled – Yata hopes Kusanagi can’t hear the twinge of longing Yata can’t hide. 

 

“Reisi is a good man,” Kusanagi knocks the end of a champagne glass to the back of his head.

 

Yata doesn’t budge – his facial expressions will betray him and he doesn’t want to deal with this right now.  Yata pictures the touch of cool metal under his fingers and imagines the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins as if he’s out on the ocean again.  Even confined behind glass walls and strapped into a giant robot while Yata’s life hung by a thread – out there, it felt like each breath he took held the entire ocean in it.  Yata remembers the magic of it all, of piloting his own Jaegar - it stings now.  That rush doesn’t belong to him anymore, _he_ doesn’t belong to Yata anymore.  An uncomfortable lump starts to form in his throat and Yata roughly swallows it down, he misses his watered-down vodka.

 

Yata sucks in a deep breath; he raises his head and thinks about the blue menace.  That itself is enough to turn his face sour.  “He’s creepy,” Yata scoffs – he leans forward on his elbow, mostly for the frown that Kusanagi shoots him. 

 

“Reisi is a good, _creepy_ man,” Kusanagi amends, and that draws a smile to Yata’s face. “He has to be good to match our Mikoto after all, especially with all of the Kaiju coming in,”

 

“They’re all category III’s at least,” Yata looks down at his hands with a frown, “He better be good to keep all of that at bay,”

 

“It’s too bad he doesn’t have our Yata-chan’s help anymore, hm?” Kusanagi doesn’t look at him – he idly wipes down a glass and whistles along to non-existent movement.  “That’s what Anna thinks, anyways.”

 

Yata can’t bear to make eye contact anymore – he glances outside, the bar is huddled in the middle of the Japanese military base, about half a mile away from the shatter dome.  Yata refuses to admit it, but watching the hustle of white lab coats and suited Jaeger pilots eases the ache in his heart.  Sometimes, though, watching them _burns._ The ache climbs up his chest when he pictures his own skin-tight uniform and the way Saru would – no. Yata slams those thoughts down as quickly as they come.  “Is that what Anna thinks?” He grumbles. 

 

“It’s what Mikoto thinks too, if that means more to you,” Kusanagi raises an eyebrow and it _hurts._ They pin it all on him, as if Yata could jump off these stools and stroll down into the shatter dome, hop into his Jaeger as if he never left and just take it for a joy ride over the ocean.  It’s not his fault, he’s not the traitor. 

 

“I don’t have a partner,” Yata mumbles.  And then, under his breath – for himself, “It’s not like I wanted to leave,”

 

“You’re a different person these days, Yata-chan,” Kusanagi clicks his tongue.

 

Yata sighs – he can’t deny that.  He watches the new cadets strolling by with gleaming smiles and it aches in his heart. 

 

He remembers yanking Saru by the wrist and dragging him through the base with his heart pounding in his ears the first time he set foot in the shatter dome. His heart screeched to a halt the first time he claimed his Jaeger – his throat closed, breathlessly Yata marveled at something so _beautiful_ that belonged to him and _Saru._

 

Yata remembers Saru’s trained stoicism, and if he looks to his hands, he sees Saru’s slender, clammy fingers intertwined tightly with Yata’s and sweat accumulating between their palms.  In that moment, Yata felt his heart thrumming in tune with Saru.  _Ah,_ Yata had thought, _this is where I belong_. 

 

 _Ah,_ Yata thinks now, _what a shit-show that turned out to be._

“A _partner-less_ person,” Yata throws his arms behind his head and laughs – it sounds hollow even to him.  “It’s not my fault that stupid monkey couldn’t live up,” Yata snorts, he buries his face into his elbows again.

 

Yata hears the muffled sound of Kusanagi speaking, silence, and then a large hand ruffling the top of his hair.  Yata leans back against Mikoto’s one hand still twined in his hair, the second haphazardly shoved in his pocket and his teeth lazily clinging to the ends of a cigarette. “What’s up?” he drawls.

 

Yata jumps to attention, “N-nothing really, how was the fight?” 

 

A category III Kaiju had risen from the depths around twenty minutes ago, and for both pilots to show up, de-suited, ready to lounge around a bar for the rest of the night, that must mean – “You tell me,” Mikoto chuckles.  He collapses against one of the couches lined along the back wall and spreads his arms as if he owns the damn place.

 

Yata admires that – Mikoto emits this _aura_ – like curling under a warm blanket, snuggling up to the father he never had and falling asleep in safe arms knowing that tomorrow, he’ll wake up as Yata Misaki with everything in place.  Yata’s heart clenches at how much that feeling contributed to what he mentally calls the great Fushimi Fallout of 2016.

 

As expected, Mikoto does not come alone.  “If Suoh had not been so brash, it would have gone a lot better,”

 

Yata clicks his tongue, “Mikoto-san knows what he’s doing,” he snaps, “Clearly he got your ass back here alive,”

 

“Yata.” Mikoto’s throws his head over the back of the couch, with a steady smoke-line leaving his lips. “Play nice.”

 

Reisi smirks at him and plucks Mikoto’s cigarette, takes a drag, and puts it back before gracefully sitting beside him.  Kusanagi already places a couple of beers besides them and Reisi nods his thanks – Mikoto doesn’t flinch.  The two work in sync, they are partners, that’s expected – but it’s like they complete each other’s movements.  Sometimes Yata sees them doing nothing but stare and it’s like a whole conversation happens – play by play – and he’ll never understand a word. 

 

And that is why Yata doesn’t like Munakata Reisi.

 

It’s like Reisi built a world that Yata _had._

Reisi spent four, grueling years of drifting to piece together the inner workings of Suoh Mikoto.  Still, Mikoto has the poker face of god, and shuts Reisi out with one of his piercing glares.  Reisi knows, though, where to look when they drift, he knows which pieces of the neural load he can disrupt just enough to spill Mikoto’s rawest emotions.  Every corner that Mikoto turns, Reisi follows.  Mikoto and Reisi rule the base with some weird co-pilot rivalry that keeps everything at bay.  The new cadets gape at them, sometimes, and he hears the hushed whispers of _hope_ , hope to find a partner _that good._

 

But with Yata, it was _different_. 

 

Yata never looked at Saru, Saru _never_ showed emotion with his face.  But Yata spent over ten years drowning in just _Saru_.  Yata knows that when Saru shoves his hands in his pockets, he’s secretly rubbing the hilt of his throwing knives because he’s embarrassed.  He knows that’s Saru saying ‘ _I can throw a knife down your throat, you think you’re embarrassing me?’_  He knows that stiffened posture translates into Saru’s insecurities and Yata once took _pride_ that he knew all of the right words to watch Saru loosen and only _Yata_ could do it.  At some point, Yata started thinking _Ah, if Saru was here, this is what his hands would do._

 

Yata smiles at the memories that swirl in his head, but they taste like ash on his tongue.

 

 

 

 

 

_Yata smashed the buttons on his Gameboy – he had two hearts left but if he could just scramble to the checkpoint, he could crawl on Saru and beg him to beat it until the monkey shoved him off and did it just to rub it in Yata’s face. Yata whimpered when a knife to the back brought him back to one and a half hearts – he could see it in the distance.  Just ten more feet of sprinting and he would –_

_“Yata-kun.”_

_Yata startled slightly, he slipped just enough to fall in the clutches of the four enemies crowded behind him.  “What the fuck do you want?” He snarled, shooting his head up._

_Yata’s glare reached a girl tapping her foot and her arms crossed over her chest.  She sneered and huffed down at him._ Yuki, _Yata figured_ , _Saru occasionally turned around and stole her pencils when Yata inevitably forgot his again. “A-Ah s-sorry,” Yata spluttered to his feet and prayed that his ears weren’t turning red – but Saru did say it was cute so, maybe…_

_The girl shoved forward a friend – Hana – she whimpered and clutched her red cheeks and trembled as if her heart would explode.  For a moment, Yata thought_ his _heart would explode, “A-ah,” Hana mumbled, “Y-Yata-san, if I…if I…” she trailed off and helplessly looked between him and Yuki._

_“If she confesses to Fushimi, what would he say?” Yuki sighs._

_“Oh.”_

_The two girls squeeze their hands together, they hold their breath, and the slightest bit of guilt gnaws at his stomach, but not enough to lie. He ponders over it for a moment, and says, “He would put his hand in his pocket, and tell you to go shove it,”_

_“Oi!” Yuki snaps at him. Hana gasps quietly and tears start to fall – Yata splutters, they_ always _cry and it’s_ always _Saru’s fault but Yata’s left to stumble in the awkward mess it leaves._

_“You asked what he’d do, well that’s it!” He snaps back. Yuki glares and spits something else at him and Yata clicks his tongue, plopping back against the tree and picking up his game again.  He’ll have to get to the checkpoint again, Saru only helps after he deems Yata has suffered a good amount._

_Yata’s eyes droop and his head bobs as he nods off, pressed back to back against Saru on the rooftop.  Saru’s warmth radiates through his jacket and it’s peaceful.  Yata’s at home, like this.  “Did Akiyama talk to you about me?”_

_Saru shifts to flick him on the forehead when Yata doesn’t answer – it means Saru’s comfortable like this, too.  “I won’t wake you up if you fall asleep, Misaki.” He smirks.  Saru likes to talk in a voice that resembles a creepy song, he thinks it creates an intimidating aura.  For other people, maybe, but Yata doesn’t tell him it just makes him look like a try-hard kid who plans for world domination – that’s his secret to keep._

_“Don’t know,” Yata slurs, shifting to bury his nose in the back of Saru’s jacket.  The gentle movements of Saru’s breaths and the rhythm of his beating heart spread a familiar warmth that makes Yata’s brain hazy.  He stayed up last night finishing a stupid math assignment Saru refused to let him copy, it’s Saru’s fault if he falls asleep, anyways._

_“Akiyama Hana,” Saru corrects._

_“Ah,” Yata slurs.  “She confessed?”_

_“She started wailing like an animal and that other monster of a woman punched me in the gut,” Yata senses Saru shove his hands in his pocket – it means he’s embarrassed. Yata grins against Saru’s back, “Said she should’ve believed you,”_

_“Of course she should’ve,” Yata laughs, “That idiot,”_

_“How did you know I’d react that way?”  Saru stiffens against him, so Yata leans most of his weight against Saru’s back and waits for him to accommodate before answering._

_“I know you,” He whispers._

_Saru’s posture relaxes against him and that’s Saru telling him that Yata answered right._

_That’s Saru telling him, ‘Only you, Misaki.’_

_Saru – true to his word – abandons him on the rooftop snoring away until found and scolded by the principal.  Yata sighs, “Stupid, dumb monkey!” he calls to the sky, stretching his arms high over his head and admiring the sunlight beaming down on his face.  Yata makes his way towards the classroom, he’s stuck cleaning the hallway – and he knows Saru’s waiting with his feet kicked up on a desk, haphazardly beating all of the hard levels Yata left for him as some sort of twisted apology that he’d never dare say with words._

“Well, Yata-chan, what do you think?”  Kusanagi taps his fingers against the bar and pins Yata with a look that says _caught you_. 

 

“A-Ah,” Yata’s ears go warm, “Sorry – I wasn’t – “ he starts but Mikoto laughs, Reisi sighs and pushes up his glasses and Yata sneers at him.

 

“I was _saying_ ,” Reisi drawls, “We can’t keep this up, the Kaiju are getting stronger – we need a better plan,”

 

“It’s working out just fine,” Mikoto says. 

 

Reisi takes the cigarette from Mikoto’s mouth and plops it in an ash-tray.  Mikoto opens one eye, and Yata watches the way it searches for answers hidden in Reisi’s face.  “We’re fine,” Mikoto says.  It makes Yata shudder – he says it in a way that reminds of him of a no-nonsense dictator.  Mikoto is a great man, but he invokes fear.  Yata never minded that.  However, he marks that as a nick on his mental tally-board of reasons why Saru dipped. 

 

Reisi sighs and pushes up his glasses – he knows when to quit a losing battle.  “By the way,” he smirks in Yata’s direction and that’s enough to make Yata’s skin crawl. 

 

Yata narrows his eyes, “What?” he snaps. 

 

“Fushimi is coming back.” 

 

Yata’s chest seizes up, he digs his nails into the wooden counter hard enough that his knuckles turn white and the wood starts to sink into dents.  Yata can’t find air in his lungs and the words stay lodged in his throat.  Yata swallows _hard_ , he resists the urge to curl around himself – there’s a chill down his spine that forces goosebumps to shoot up his arms.

 

Yata hears the ghost of breath blowing against his ear, the shadow of a warm chest against his back, an arm wrapped around his torso and the tip of a cold blade caressing his throat just a wisp away from drawing blood _. Misaki_ , he will say in that syrup-smooth voice that once made Misaki crawl into his arms, _did you miss me?_

 

“Yata.” Mikoto says – that pulls Yata from his thoughts, and he sucks in a breath so hard he coughs.  Mikoto looks at him with clear gold eyes and his elbows rested on his knees. “You should come back.”

 

“What the _fuck?”_ Yata springs to his feet, his sweater catches on the edge of the bar stool and it topples to the floor and it nicks the bar on the way down.  Kusanagi shouts something – did he say to calm down? Stop leaving marks on his bar?  Yata’s blood boils beneath his skin, it’s like fire burns in his veins and how _dare_ Mikoto say it.  Yata knits his eyebrows together and slams his hands on the counter, he opens his mouth to scream that he’ll _never,_ he _won’t_ , because fucking damn monkey _betrayed him._

 

As quickly as it climbs, Yata’s anger simmers away. 

 

They watch him.  Yata catches Kusanagi biting back a smile, and the small part of him that Saru trained to _learn_ from his environment leaps forward.  _They want you to react_ , it says, _they want you to get angry_. 

 

“No.” Yata says, he steadies his gaze and stares straight at Mikoto in a way he wouldn’t have _dared_ before.  It makes Yata wonder if Saru did _care_ , even if he denies it, perhaps he saw something in Yata to teach him things that keep others out.  It’s almost as if a piece of Saru said _hide these feelings from others, so only I can see._  

 

If Mikoto is shocked, he doesn’t show it. 

 

“I don’t care who’s coming back,” Yata continues, “It’s not my business.”

 

“ _She_ misses you,” Mikoto smirks. 

 

Yata clicks his tongue, he hates Mikoto’s stupid cryptic talk.  But under the walls Yata struggles to keep erect, he misses _her_ too.

 

 

 

 

 

  _“Well,” Totsuka grins at them and ushers them closer.  Yata holds his breath, as if he’s frightened just breathing will destroy the perfection displayed in front of them.  Subconsciously he reaches out for Saru, he’s met halfway, those slender fingers squeeze his hand back as if saying ‘She’s beautiful.  She’s beautiful and she’s_ ours.’

 

_“She’s amazing,” Yata breathes.  Saru squeezes._

_“You have to name her,” Totsuka smiles.  Yata’s mind goes blank.  A Jaegar stands before him, in her full metal glory, with intentions of becoming half-his.  Yata hears Totsuka speaking, but the words sound muffled, like he’s underwater and everything is blurred out except the magnificent beast before him and Saru’s bone-crushing grasp on his fingers._

_But, he wouldn’t be Fushimi Saruhiko if he didn’t live to ruin the moment.  “Misaki.” He says in that stone-cold voice._

_“Hm?”_

_“No,” Saru grins, “I want to name her Misaki – it’s a girls name.”_

_“HEY.” Yata rips his hand from Saru and aims a kick straight to his shin.  “We’re having a super intense bonding moment, do you really have to ruin_ everything? _” Totsuka laughs behind them and Saru smugly fixes his glasses._

_“I don’t see a problem, she’s a girl, Misaki is a very common_ feminine – “

 

_“I swear,” Misaki rolls his sleeves up and flares his nostrils. “I dare you to keep going, I’ll shove this – “ he shakes his fist in front of Saru’s face “So far up your ass you’ll be in the hospital for a month, at least,”_

_Saru leans over, just so Totsuka can’t hear him, “Why do you assume I’d want to give my virginity to you – and so crudely, too?”_

_“T-That’s not what I meant!” Yata squeaks, ears flaring red. “Ugh.” He crosses his arms and huffs while Saru grins evilly behind him.  “You ruin_ everything _, literally_ everything _.”  And then – Yata throws his head back and smiles, and for a moment, Saru’s face glistens with emotion.  His mouth hangs open only slightly, but his eyes shimmer with something and Yata thinks that he loves this.  He loves the faces Saru makes when he thinks no one looks.  “Let’s name it Monkey,” Yata grins._

_Saru slams a fist on his head, “No.”_

_Yata huffs, “Well we’re not naming her something girly –_ you _might be a girl, but I am manly as hell.  And my Jaeger is gonna be manly as hell, too.”_

_Saru raises an eyebrow, and opens his mouth to speak, but Totsuka stops him. “Do you know what a Silverback is?”_

_They both look at him – Yata with an edge of curiosity and Saru with annoyance – but those are both looks Totsuka has come to love.  “It’s a male gorilla, usually the dominant male of a pack,”_

_Yata starts to speak but Saru drops a hand on his shoulder. He’s looking at Totsuka so his eyes don’t reveal a thing, but the heat of his palm screams, ‘Please.’  “Silverback Blossom.” Saru whispers._

_Yata smiles and glances up at Saru. A piece of Saru and a piece of him._

_“Yeah. That’s perfect.”_

Yata sighs and buries his face in his hands, “I’m only half of what she misses,” he mumbles.

 

Mikoto stands up and stretches his arms above his head.  Reisi still sits, one leg crossed pristinely over the other and keeps a steady gaze on Mikoto’s back.  Yata expects him to leave, Mikoto doesn’t waste time on lost causes.  But Mikoto sits on the stool next to him and keeps his gaze on the wall of alcohol instead of Yata.  “I miss you.” He says, Mikoto smiles at the way Yata jumps to attention, “Losing him, I didn’t mind, he never cared about much.  You were someone I thought would stay, even if I hated a young kid out there.”

 

Mikoto usually says the right things, but not always.  “He really didn’t care, did he?”

 

“I don’t know,” Mikoto shrugs. “No one but he will ever know that,”

 

 _I’m supposed to know, it’s my job to know_. 

 

“You don’t need him, Yata, you don’t need anyone but yourself.  You’re dying, like this.” Kusanagi warns.

 

“I’m _fine.”_  Yata snarls.  “It doesn’t have anything to do with that piece of shit, I _can’t_ pilot a fucking Jaeger on my own – _she_ won’t accept anyone else.” 

 

A small voice digs in his head – _is it_ her, _or is it_ you?

 

“She will choose anyone you bring to her,” It’s not Mikoto or Kusanagi – Reisi stands up, pushes up his glasses and strolls towards the entrance.  As expected – Mikoto gets up to follow.  “You can sulk for as many years as you want, but you can’t blame it on Fushimi.”

 

“Snooty bastard,” Yata calls after him.  “I fucking _hate_ that guy.” He slams his head on the counter.

 

“If only you could translate that enthusiasm back into piloting,” Kusanagi grins.

 

Yata storms out too. 

 

Fuck everyone.

 

 _Especially_ that damn monkey. 

 

_Even when you’re gone, you’re still getting me in trouble, stupid Saru._


	2. ii

_“Can you beat this?” Yata waves his Gameboy; he stabs it in Saru’s face a few times before the boy knocks it from his hands with a grunt._

_“Of course, I’m not as incapable as you,” Saru adjusts the frame of his glasses and goes back to resting his back against a tree; he’s settled to nap and ignore Yata again._

_Yata grins and pinches his cheek.  He laughs at the way Saru flails and smacks his hand wearing sour face “If I do this – will you leave me alone?”_

_“I’ll let you nap,” Yata shrugs._

_Saru snatches the toy, spends five minutes fuming and mashing buttons before shoving it back against Yata’s chest. “Two hours, Misaki, that’s all I ask.”_

_“Whatever asshole,” Yata drops his head into Saru’s lap. His thighs tense beneath his skull; but slowly, so slowly Yata would never notice if he wasn’t looking, the tension bleeds out and Saruhiko falls asleep while Yata plays on, volume muted._

 

 

Fushimi Saruhiko steps on Japanese military base soil, for the first time in two years, exactly one week ago. 

 

So – Yata Misaki spends the full week trying _damn_ hard to avoid the shit out of him.

 

 He figures out Saru’s housing assignment by cornering some of the younger cadets.  One of them pales and even goes a bit green – Yata feared he’d puke, but the kid ends up stuttering out Saru’s location in the west dorms and then tumbles into the nearest bathroom. 

 

The base spans at least five miles, so it’s clear – Yata doesn’t have to deal with the asshole.  After all, Saru left him to do some research out in Germany.  It’s not like Yata would do anything with the labs even if he chose to continue piloting.  But if Saru attempts to seek him out, then maybe he’d – Yata pushes out a breath through his nose and massages his chest to quiet his racing heart.  He shouldn’t focus on useless things – Saru won’t come for him.

 

Yata’s effort consists of using common areas at ridiculous times.  Yesterday morning, he got breakfast, and lunch to go, at 5. He almost crashed, face-first, in the eggs and the server looked at him as if he personally demanded she spoon slop into his bowl at the crack of dawn.  It’s not _his_ fault – though no one seems to understand.  Today he didn’t even bother, he’ll wait until the dinner rush ends and grab some cheap, stale packet of pop tarts from the vending machines.  

 

Kusanagi called him to the bar a few times, even Anna _personally_ asked him to join.  But Yata’s not risking it.  “You can’t do this forever,” Kusanagi said. 

 

“I can do it for a _really_ long time,” he grumbled before hanging up and whipping the phone at the bed.  He ignored all his calls after that. 

 

It’s more than just _avoiding,_ Yata doesn’t even _know_ Saru anymore.  A wrongness settles in his chest now just at the thought of _him_.  Yata used to decipher all of Saru’s thoughts with one touch, he knew all of Saru’s emotions, all of his words, before he said them.  Reisi called it ghost-drifting – he faced the same fate with Mikoto but Yata did it _before._  Two years ago, Yata could touch Saru’s hand and watch the tension bleed away as if Yata cured him.  Saru bared himself to _Yata –_ and Yata did the same.

 

Or, so he had thought.

 

Yata groans and collapses onto his bed.  He tugs at his hair and resists the urge to punch the wall. _Stupid monkey keeps ruining my stupid life._  Yata hears Kusanagi’s annoying voice in his head warning him, _You can’t do this forever_.   Yata rolls over and squishes his head against the pillow and traces lines in the sheets, he _can’t_ do this forever.  His heart hungers for adventure, and Yata’s spent the past seven days crawling around like a secret agent in a place he’s supposed to call _home._

 

Yata slips to the floor, this is _killing_ him, hiding out and hoping all his problems will leave.  Yata stands up, knocks on his chest using a determined fist a few times, snatches his beanie and skateboard, and throws open the door.  That damn monkey _won’t_ stop him from facing the world damn it. 

 

Yata doesn’t make it five steps before stumbling into a familiar face.  “Ah, Yata-san, I was just looking for you!” 

 

Totsuka smiles and holds out a plate of saran-wrapped food, “I thought you’d skip lunch again,” He grins and directs the plate under Yata’s nose, the smell itself makes his mouth water. 

 

“It’s none of your business,” Yata grumbles but he doesn’t deny the piece of sashimi Totsuka holds up at him. He snatches it with his teeth and Totsuka laughs.

 

“Yata-san hasn’t changed at all.”

 

Yata huffs, “Apparently you’re the only one who thinks that.”

 

Totsuka tilts head, “Really? I don’t think Yata-kun is any less or more stupid than usual, though.”

 

Yata cringes, “How nice of you to say so,” he mumbles.  “Anyways, I gotta go,” Yata drops and jumps on his skateboard in a swift move, but Totsuka places a gentle arm on his shoulder.

 

“Fushimi-kun is just as stupid too.”

 

Yata swallows hard.  He closes his eyes and tells his heart to stop before he trusts his voice enough to speak, “I wouldn’t know,” he says.  Yata wants to leave, he gets as far as gently removing Totsuka’s hand and getting both feet on the skateboard before the gnawing feeling in his stomach snaps.  “Y-You’ve talked to him, haven’t you?”

 

Totsuka mockingly holds another piece of sashimi near Yata’s mouth.  Yata crosses his arms and grimaces – Totsuka always treats him like a child, “Dinner before desert, Yata-kun.” 

 

Yata opens his mouth and Totsuka wears a smug grin. “We work together, now, in the labs.”

 

Yata chews and dutifully allows Totsuka to continue feeding him, “He hasn’t changed much, he’s still mean to everyone and acts like an asshole.” Yata snorts and reaches for a piece by himself, it makes Totsuka chuckle as he continues.  “Of course, I think Yata-san would know best if that was true.”

 

Yata pauses, sashimi halfway in his mouth.  He chews slowly, and Totsuka looks at him as if he _knows_.  That’s the thing about him – Saru never liked anyone much, but he never liked _Totsuka_ at all.  Yata knows because Saru – rare to show anything – always squeezed his hand and Yata sensed the tension radiating off his body. Totsuka can tell a lot about a person, it’s like he reaches into your soul and digs up all of the buried emotions and brings them to the surface with carefully chosen words.  Yata never cared, he almost felt cared _for_ in a sense, but for someone who hid everything as deep as he could bury it – Saru _hated_ him.

 

“Who knows,” Yata shrugs.  He intended to spend a few hours in an arcade, half a mile south from the base’s entrance, but he turns around.  “I’ll see you later,” he says.

 

“You’re going to the shatter dome?” Yata grins at the surprise in Totsuka’s voice. 

 

“Mikoto said _she_ missed me, so…” Yata trails off.  He yanks the beanie over his ears to hide the growing redness, “Figured I could just…go sit, for a while.”

 

Totsuka pushes him off, “I think that’s a great idea,”

 

Yata’s heart sinks a little, he waves Totsuka off and starts to speed up.  He hasn’t touched – hasn’t _seen_ – their Jaeger since, well, _then_.  Yata glances between his hands to see the ghost of his bare fingers scrambling around until they brush up against Saru’s suit when the fear settled in his heart.  Yata sighs deeply and it reverberates in his chest.  A neural load is a rough burden to handle, they had told them, but Yata never thought it any different than the friendship he’d carried for the last ten years.  And he never called _that_ a burden. 

 

Lost in thought, Yata crashes – head first – into a cadet scrolling through his phone.  Yata manages to wobble a little and regain his balance, “Watch it!” he growls. 

 

The cadet glares back, but then his eyes widen. He scrambles to his feet; looking at Yata as if he’s seen a god.  “You’re…..you’re _Yata!”_

 

Yata blinks. “Uh…”

 

The cadet’s grin stretches, “I can’t believe this, I’m talking to _Yata-san!”_

 

“Ah – you….know me?” Yata scratches the back of his neck and the man flounders before him.  He’s perhaps three times Yata’s size, but he’s got a pretty cool beard – Yata can admire that.

 

“You _are_ Yata-san, right?” The man squeals.  He looks about ready to beg Yata for an autograph, he even smiles so big that it starts to creep Yata out. “I’m Kamamoto Rikio,” his hands tremble – almost vibrate – but he holds out a shaky hand for Yata. 

 

Yata grudgingly obliges – the guy’s kind of creepy – but it’s not everyday someone akin to a fan wanders up to _him_.  Rikio’s whole body trembles with anticipation, so much so that Yata can hear the clinking of the stupid chains woven around his neck.  “Stop shaking so damn much!” he yells before he can help it, “Those chains are annoying,”

 

Rikio’s smiles even wider (Yata can’t even _believe_ that’s possible) and speaks through his ear-splitting grin, “It’s not every day you meet a pilot!”

 

Ah, there’s the ache in his chest again. 

 

Yata averts his gaze and runs his fingers through his hair, he counts the rivets in the wall to calm himself. “I’m not anymore.”  He mentally congratulates himself for the smooth tone, his voice didn’t even crack this time.

 

“But you could be,” Rikio says.

 

Yata snorts, “Are you stupid? I don’t have a partner; didn’t hear that in the rumor mill yet?” Yata can’t hide the bitter bite – he digs his nails into his palms.  It’s not a stranger’s fault, he’s just some dumb, curious cadet that doesn’t know any better.

 

“Well, can’t you like – just get a new one?”

 

Yata blinks.  “You really _are_ stupid.”

 

Rikio huffs.  He dares to talk back; a hint of indignance in his voice, “Well it’s not like you can’t,”

 

Yata growls, “Did Mikoto put you up to this?”

 

Rikio’s hand goes to clutch his chest.  He gasps and pushes his face so close to Yata’s that Yata almost stumbles onto his ass.  “You know _Mikoto_?!”

 

Perhaps in the past, Yata would have totally upscaled his friendship with Mikoto and made _all_ the cadets follow him like some little armada.  But he really, _really_ , just does not give a shit right now. “He’s a friend,” Yata sighs, rubbing his temples. “I’m leaving,” he decides, and tries to push past the stranger and continue on his aimless wandering.

 

But then – “Have you tried to drift with someone else?”

 

Yata freezes, he whips around ready to slam Rikio straight into the cold cement hard enough to break a few teeth and maybe even a nose.  But, he stops. Yata screws his eyes shut and counts under his breath – it’s an innocent question.  “It’s not that _easy,”_ he snaps back, he can’t quite hide the bitterness in his voice. “The fuck do you even know about drifting yet?”

 

“Well…” Rikio averts his gaze so Yata doesn’t see the red color spreading on his cheeks, but he still blunders on, “I know it’s about compatibility, and you can’t be compatible with just one person, right?”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Yata snaps, he shoves past him – hard enough so that Rikio stumbles and needs to stabilize himself against the wall.  “Come talk to me when you can actually survive a neural handshake.”

 

Yata expects a snarky remark, but instead – “Sir, yes sir!” 

 

Yata doesn’t look back at the kid – he reminds him a lot of his younger self and Saru struggling through the training with dreams of claiming a Jaeger for themselves.  He doesn’t quite have the heart to crush a cadet’s dreams that he might find the perfect partner, someone who slots next to him so easily – the dream crumbles too easily. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yata skirts past the scientists and crew members, frantically working around their own Jaegers, undetected.  A part of him wonders if somewhere, among all of that chaos, is Saru.  He doesn’t even quite know what Saru went to _do,_ and a little bit of Yata wonders if somehow, a little piece of this is his own fault, as well.

 

Those thoughts melt away when he skates to a stop near his iron beauty.  _Silverback_ looks down at him, completely unscathed, the metal glistening under the harsh lighting of the shatter dome exactly as he left her.  They painted her a dual mix of a light pink and baby blue – she almost looks like some child of Mikoto and Reisi’s _Fire King_ that stands opposite of her.  Yata runs his fingers around the smooth metal and feels his heart leap in his chest.  Yata _yearns_ to stand in her cockpit again, to feel the weight of half a robot fitted on his shoulders. 

 

“I missed you,” he whispers as he climbs into the skull. 

 

He runs his fingers against the screens that lit up with information that flew right over his head – he remembers blankly allowing Saru to process all of that while Yata reveled in all the sensations _Silverback_ brought with her.  Standing here, Yata almost smells the wet ocean air flooding his nostrils. 

 

He closes his eyes and loses himself in a memory. 

 

 

 _Yata’s heart races, he feels the adrenaline pumping all over his body.  Yata’s suited up and strapped in so tightly that even the slightest pull puts an odd strain against his muscles.  They’re_ here, _they’ve made it – and today the three of them will drift together for the first time.  “This is it,” Yata whispers, pure awe bleeding into his words, “This is_ it. _”_

_Saru grunts beside him, but Yata knows his feet tap against the cool, metal beneath their feet.  Saru’s excited, too. **“Alright boys,”**   Totsuka’s voice floods over the internal con,  **“Get ready, initiating drift in 3…2…1.”**_

 

 _Yata never quite gets used to the emptiness that engulfs him.  Yata’s world fades to dark, black splotches and he thrashes around blindly until his hands find their way.  Totsuka warned him the first time they drifted that Saru would access any possible nook of his brain, he had warned them profusely that the_ strength _of their bond would crumble.  Reisi suggested teaching them how to form a neural block – he looked directly into Saru’s eyes – Saru reached for Yata’s hand and squeezed it so hard Yata thought the bones in his fingers would snap._

_“We don’t need that.” Yata insisted – Saru’s grip loosened._

_During the drift, Yata’s consciousness falls into Saru. It goes from a cold, dark, emptiness to a bright, gorgeous light illuminating the world and engulfing him in a warmth that Yata can’t place.  The delicate threads of light weave around him, as if holding him and whispering, ‘You’re safe here, Misaki, you belong here.’  Saru asked him, later, if Yata had felt invaded.  Yata thought over it, instead of speaking, he reached out and squeezed Saru’s palm with a reassuring gleam in his eyes.  Saru held tightly to their joined hands and mumbled, ‘Me neither.’_

_Yata’s torn from those memories when Totsuka gasps **, “Jesus Fucking Christ. You kids really are compatible.”**_

_Saru’s egotistical smirk surrounds Yata’s conscious_.  **_“Okay,”_** _Totsuka regains his breath and a bunch of screens around Yata’s head begin to light.  Yata relaxes and releases all his thoughts, he lets Saru’s brain in take all of the numbers circling around them. **“This is going to be different than anything you’ve ever done.”**_ _Totsuka warns. **“I’m going to initiate the neural handshake, and you’re going to feel like you’re lost.  You have to find your Jaeger, and then you’ll be able to use the Pons interface to control it, got that?”**_

****

This is amazing. She’s beautiful – she’s ours.  _Saru thinks._

 

_Yata grins, he loves the way Saru’s thoughts come through the drift.  They’re riddled with emotion that Saru can’t remove anymore and it’s a side that no one but Yata will ever see._

 

We’ll treat her well.  _Yata replies._

 

_The warmth of Saru’s grin pokes at the ends of Yata’s thoughts and Yata can’t stop himself from laughing in real life._

**_“I’ll take that as confirmation – initiating neural handshake.”_ **

 

Misaki, after this let’s –

 

 _Yata’s thoughts fall into darkness.  He’s surrounded by nothing but black – he thrashes his arms and legs, but he can’t even feel them moving in this, twisted, eternal void.  Fear clouds over his brain and Yata cries out,_ ‘Saru? Saru I can’t feel you!’ _Cold sweeps over his spine, it feels like ice freezes over his bones, and Yata can’t move.  Yata opens his mouth to scream, he stops breathing – he sucks and sucks but no breath comes in, and Yata scratches for his throat.  He can’t feel it, he struggles to raise his arms – he can’t find them._

 

 _Somewhere, faint in the back of his mind, he hears Saru’s horror-stricken screams._ Misaki!

 

_Yata’s vision floods back in one quick swoop, he starts gasping for air immediately, he sucks in a breath so deep a violent cough creeps out of his lungs and Yata almost pukes on the spot. **“Disconnecting drift – Yata-kun, do you copy? Fushimi – is he back?”**_

****

_“H-He’s back,” Yata stops panting and cranes his neck to see Saru’s panic-stricken eyes scanning over him.  Yata feels the slight sensation of the dropping drift, but Saru always feels deeply rooted in his brain – it doesn’t mean much, to them.  Yata pulls the Pons headset free and just barely manages to disconnect all the wiring before Saru scrambles over and yanks him into his chest._

_Yata’s buried face-deep into Saru’s skin-tight uniform, he doesn’t even hear the heartbeat, he feels it pounding against his cheek and Yata snakes his arms around Saru’s waist and pushes his face in deeper.  Saru doesn’t cry.  But Yata starts sobbing, it was so wrong – so wrong to have Saru ripped from his mind so easily.  Saru squeezes him as if he loosens even slightly, Misaki will fade away._

_The door to hangar whooshes open; Totsuka shoves past a team of medics that immediately grab for Misaki.  Saru grips him tighter against his chest and lashes at them “No! Stay away from us!” Saru snaps.  A frazzled Totsuka halts them, murmuring something in hushed whispers to make them leave._

_“What happened? The connection was stable – you guys were compatible at 99% I don’t understand.”_

_Yata hiccups around his words, Totsuka looks frantic and Yata feels bad, but Yata wants to bury his nose back into Saru’s chest and live like that forever.  “It felt like – it felt like…” Yata struggles for words._

_Saru digs his palms deeper into Yata’s waist, enough to leave bruises later, but Yata doesn’t care – that gives him the words.  “It felt like Saru was_ gone.” 

 

_“You mean like the drift collapsed? That’s normal you just have to –“_

“No!” _Yata yells, tears start to well in his eyes again and he still doesn’t feel stable enough to leave Saru.  “Saru is…_ always _there.”_

_Totsuka blinks at him “I don’t…I don’t understand.”_

_The medics finally usher Totsuka out and manage to pry Misaki out of Saru’s arms long enough to sedate the both of them.  They wake up with nothing wrong and Totsuka frantically crunching numbers against a calculator and speaking in hushed tones with Mikoto and Anna, curled together on the pull-out couch of the labs._

_“Misaki,” Saru whispers, “Do you want to pilot?”_

_Yata remembers the cold darkness seeping into his bones, the freezing pressure and the lack of everything he’d ever called a home._

_But still, “Yes.” He says.  He stretches his neck to look determinedly into Saru’s eyes, “I do.”_

_“Okay.”_

_They sneak over to her, late into the night, a few days later.  Saru pulls the right strings to convince a lower ranking official to guide them through the drifting and the handshake – Misaki worries, not having Totsuka’s reassuring voice, but he knows – Totsuka won’t let them try again so soon._

_They strap each other in – too afraid to involve any of the other Silverback team members.  “Are you ready, Chitose?”_

_The internal com dings, **“Heh, I should be asking you that.”**_

****

_“Do it,” Misaki says, his eyes find Saru, and Saru grunts in approval._

**_“Alright, initiating drift in 3…2…1.”_ **

****

_Once again, Misaki feels a brief pulse of darkness, and then the ever-familiar presence of Saru clouding over his thoughts._ You can’t panic. _Saru thinks at him_.  You have to keep your thoughts straight. 

 

Heh. _Misaki grins back._ Look who’s talking – you’re the one who slept with a nightlight until you were fourteen.

 

 _Saru’s consciousness huffs, and Yata senses the pink dust dancing between their combined brains._ Are you ready?

 

_Saru’s brain clears and a shared sense of determination sinks in Yata’s gut.  “Chitose!” he calls out, “Start the handshake!”_

**_“A-Ah.  Damn that seems too fast…I don’t know if…”_ **

****

_“Just do it!” Yata growls._

**_“I…well fine, I mean if you’re so compatible then…initiating neural handshake.”_ **

_The sickening pull of darkness swallows Yata whole.  His initial reaction, once again, is too flail until he finds Saru.  But this time, Yata bites his lip and forces his mind to push the thoughts away.  Yata dwells on the silence, loneliness isn’t something he’s felt for a long time, not since he found Saru.  But here, there is no one but Yata, shrouded in a black that feels horrifying and empty.  And Yata wonders if maybe it’s become this way because of his reliance on Saru.  But Yata can’t call that a bad thing, Saru’s the one thing he doesn’t mind invading every inch of his life.  Because he’s Saru and Yata is Yata and they belong together - that’s how it’s meant to be._

_With that thought, light floods over Yata’s eyes, and suddenly he’s looking across the shatter dome at The Fire King – lifeless without either of its masters. Yata’s emptied brain is also quickly filled with a dazzling warmth that pokes at the edge of his consciousness and Yata’s stress falls away to welcome Saru’s presence back into his conscious.   But that means – “Chitose? Can you hear me?”_

_**“Loud and clear,”**_

Should we test it? _Saru asks_.  _Yata doesn’t answer verbally – he experimentally lifts his left arm and waves it in front of his face.  Saru gasps beside him, and wondrous joy spills into their connection._

_Saru mimics him, and Yata loses his breath.  “Holy. Fucking. Shit.” He whispers aloud.  In front of his eyes, Yata sees the gleaming mix of blue and pink fingers.  The moon shines above them, and the metal sparkles; the fingers wiggle in tune with Saru and Yata is breath-taken.  “We did it.” He whispers, “We fucking did it!”_

I want to take her outside _.  Yata can’t tell if Saru means to let the thought filter into the connection, or if Yata’s own projected thoughts mingle together with Saru’s – but either way, the need is there._

_“Chitose – open the gateway.”  Yata commands_

**_“Are you fucking crazy?! Totsuka is going to kill me – Anna is going to kill me, I am going to die a slow and painful death – hell no.”_ **

****

_“Chitose – you can choose to die at Totsuka’s hand, or at mine.” Saru grins, “And I have a giant robot.”_

**_“You’re explaining this yourselves.”_ ** _Chitose whines._

_The rusted metal doors slowly pull apart, and Yata sees the world in a way he’d never imagined.  The edge of base lines the Ocean, and from his post at this height, Yata sees the water glimmering in the moonlight._ There _, Yata thinks into the drift,_ let’s go there. 

 

 _Silverback fits into their bond as if she had been a hidden part of both of them all along.  Yata thinks it should be hard – regardless of compatibility and friendship and any of that stuff.  Here they are, controlling one half of a giant robot after years of controlling a tiny, fleshy human.  But it’s not like that, they don’t waste time finding a rhythm – it’s like they have one already.  Silverback moves faster than anything Yata’s ever seen, and the wind howling by her ears feels like it’s in his own._ This is amazing! _Yata cries into the bond, he throws his arms out and Silverback does the same. If she could speak, Yata imagines she’d mimic his own mental battle cry._

_Saru’s laugh fills the drift, and it’s so contagious Yata joins him. Saru’s laugh – when genuine –sounds like the purest laugh of a little boy yet to be tainted by the world.  It thrums all over the drift and fills Yata’s belly with a warmth he’s never felt before.  And, amidst it all, Yata thinks it was worth overcoming the darkness for the shining light at the end of the tunnel._

_Silverback lands gracefully in the sand, and Yata imagines the sand falling into all the crevices of her shiny, metallic blue toes, as slipping under his own toenails.  He hears the low whistle of the soft ocean breeze. Yata idly kicks out his toes and watches moon’s reflection gleaming off he rippled of the oceans.  He tastes the air in his mouth, crisp and fresh as if he's enjoying it live.  And the best part – all the while, he feels Saru’s warm presence lazily enjoying it by his side._

_And this, Yata thinks, is where he’s belonged all along._

 

“If you’re avoiding me, coming here is a rookie mistake, _Misaki_.” 

 

Yata whirls around – his skateboard slips from his fingers and clatters to the ground.  The warmth that settled from the memory turns sour, and Yata’s thoughts muddle together as if he’s downed at least three of Kusanagi’s disgusting vodka shots. 

 

He stands there, in all his traitorous glory, wearing a crooked smile that Misaki’s seen him use before.  Yata’s just never been the recipient – until today.  So many thoughts jumble together in his head and Yata dampens them all and forces out a pained sounding, “Saru.”

 

Saru clicks his tongue.  He strolls around the perimeter of _Silverback’s_ cockpit and runs his fingers along the cool metal.  Saru pauses and dabs the end of Yata’s skateboard with his toe and when he opens his mouth to speak, he talks in that stupid way that makes it seem like it took every ounce of effort he had to bother, “And you still have this stupid thing.” 

 

Yata snatches the skateboard and cradles it against his chest.  He spent two years curled under his sheets well into the late-night hours with fresh tears soaking through his sheets.  He practiced, in hush voices, all the things, all of the _apologies_ , he’d say.  He did it so often until he memorized every last word to the core so that when such a time came, Yata’s voice would _not_ crack.  He thought he’d cried all his tears in those empty nights – but now, with the quiver in his throat, Yata realizes he could cry an ocean large enough that every Kaiju would drown before it touched land – and he’d still have tears left for Fushimi Saruhiko. 

 

Yata pointedly looks away, looking directly at him makes it _worse_. “I wasn’t avoiding you,”

 

Yata waits for Saru to reach out with gentle fingers and squeeze the fabric of his sweater.  He waits for him to slowly pull Yata to face him in the action that means _Liar._  He doesn’t. 

 

“Liar.” He snorts, “It’s been a full week and you haven’t stepped a single foot out of your room.”

 

“How did _you_ know that?” Yata demands, glaring at him from the corner of his eye. 

 

Saru is seamless in his answers, “I asked Totsuka, of course,”

 

“Heh,” Yata huffs, his voice sounds bitter even to himself, “Didn’t know you’d be so worried,” he grunts.

 

“I wasn’t,” even without looking, Yata _hears_ the fake smile etching on his face.  “But I was curious what our beautiful _Misaki_ was up to while I was gone – apparently not much,”

 

“Don’t call me _that!_ ”  Yata whips his head around again, and even though the lump in the back of his throat hasn’t settled, he puts so much _rage_ into his eyes that he hopes Saru feels it radiating off of him.   The smile doesn’t falter, but Saru blinks just a second too quickly – _surprised_ – Yata remembers.  If anything, Saru’s movements haven’t changed – and that gives Yata a lot more satisfaction than it should. 

 

“It’s _Yata_ to you.”  He continues – Yata _hates_ his first name – but that’s not it anymore.  Somewhere in middle school, Fushimi became _Saru._ And Saru hated that name to the core – hated it so much he stabbed a knife into anyone who’d ever _dare_.  But with Yata, it was different.  It sounded so different coming from Yata’s mouth, so awe-struck and _caring_ that Saru forbade him from calling him Fushimi. 

 

And Yata remembers that too.

 

_It’s just the two of us, right Misaki?_

_‘Course, just Misaki and Saru against the world!_

“Misaki,” Saru laughs that insane gargled noise that makes Yata want to hunch over and cover his ears.  “As if I’d _ever_ call you anything but.”

 

“You’ve lost that right.”  Yata gives himself credit for saying it with just enough bite that he sees Saru’s fingers twitch back towards his sleeve.  Yata recognizes that, too, it’s Saru reaching for a knife – the knife he has hidden just up his right sleeve that Yata suggested he keep.  Despite everything, that’s proof enough that the knife still lives there, tucked neatly against Saru’s skin at _his_ request.  “But I suppose you don’t know how to get that back,” Yata sneers.

 

Yata watches Saru’s finger twitch back again and the hope that maybe, _maybe,_ some semblance of what they used to have might come back.

 

Fushimi Saruhiko, however, lives to crush.

 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Saru pushes up his glasses and Yata resists the urge to _scream_ because that’s Saru saying: _I know what you want from me – but you’ll never get it._  The tears prick at Yata’s eyes and he fears opening his mouth to argue because the lump just keeps getting _bigger_.  “What’s wrong, Misaki, did your distraught little heart think we could be friends again?” 

 

“So what if it _did_?” Yata snarls.  His legs start to tremble, so much raw _emotion_ courses through his veins.  Yata wants to collapse, to slump over and cry until all the water drains out and dry sobs will rack his body.  Saru will drop beside him, will pull him up against his chest and Yata will listen to the heartbeat thundering against his ears and everything will be _okay._  

 

It's not like that anymore. 

 

Saru laughs and the sound burns in Yata’s ears.  He spits gasoline in the form of words, and the fire in Yata’s blood burns _hotter._ “Oh, _Misaki_ ,” Saru laughs, “You haven’t changed at _all.”_

“Fuck _you._ ” Yata screams – he throws a punch. 

 

Yata’s eyes blur over with tears, he can’t make out the screens flashing behind him, and _never_ did Yata think he’d start a fight standing on something they created together.  His fist connects with soft skin; Saru’s glasses fall from his face and clang as they hit the metallic ground.  Blood pounds in Yata’s ears but that stupid smirk still gleams on Saru’s face.  Blood spills from his nose, but the manic look never leaves his eyes and Yata feels _gross_.  He did this – he _soiled_ Silverback with Saru’s _blood._  He almost heaves, almost throws up and it’s getting so, _so,_ hard not to cry. 

 

And the worst thing of all, Yata stands there – Saru’s blood on his knuckles and his chest heaving with rage – and all he wants to do is snatch him by the face and demand he stop this stupid game.  Yata’s heart is crying for Saru to just come _back._ Yata hears Saru’s snarky voice singing at him from his own brain _Stupid Misaki, did you think I would?_

Saru clutches his nose and gargles out a laugh. “You became a nuisance.  You held me _back._ ”

 

The laugh sounds so _wrong_.  Yata knows what Saru sounds like, what he laughs like, what he talks like, Yata knows _everything_.  But this – Saru uses this to _hide_. 

 

And Saru hides from everyone.  The crushing realization slams on Yata – Saru doesn’t _care_.  “Did…” Yata’s voice cracks, it morphs into some twisted kind of sob that sound bitter and hopeless.  The embarrassment gnawing at him isn’t even awkward anymore – it’s gross, like something shrouding his whole body and Yata wants to claw it off of him.  “Did all those years mean _nothing?”_

 

Saru sneers down at him, “Maybe at the time, but you got boring.” 

 

“I don’t understand.” Yata whispers, he can’t stop the break in his voice anymore, the words burn coming up his throat.   

 

This, Yata remembers, is loneliness.  This is what it’s like to not _belong_.  

 

“We were partners once,” Yata doesn’t make eye contact, he watches the blood dribble in droplets down his knuckles.  It slips into the cracks of _Silverback –_ Yata resists the urge to release a strained laugh; he wonders how long Saru’s blood will sit until the metal beneath it starts to rest.  _Silverback_ must fall with her masters, after all.  “Everyone – “

 

Saru screams. 

 

Saru lunges so fast Yata can’t react.  He slams Yata against the metal walls so hard that the walls vibrate and the blow rattles all the way in Yata’s _teeth_.  Black spots touch the corner of Yata’s vision and Saru curls his fingers deep into Yata’s collar and holds him eye-level.  Yata can’t tell if the deranged panic in Saru’s eyes is real, or if it’s the bump forming on his head.

 

“You still don’t _get it.”_  Saru whispers.  He pushes his face so close Yata counts the strands of hair that fall into his eyes.  “All you care about is what everyone else is going to say, about appeasing them, about being some god damn hero for the whole fucking world.”  Saru’s breath tickles the base of his nose with each word.  “I’m not a hero for anyone Misaki, and neither are _you.”_

Yata’s head hurts.  It hurts and his eyes have trouble focusing right now, maybe Saru gave him a concussion.  Maybe he’s so lost and _hurt_ that he just doesn’t care anymore. 

 

Maybe, he stopped caring a long time ago.  “You used to be _mine_.”

 

Saru drops him and for a second Yata catches the astonishment in his eyes, and something brews beneath his skin.  Something screams at him that buried in that shitty personality, the _Saru_ that leaned on him still lives. 

 

“Stupid Misaki,” Saru laughs, but his fingers shake.  He’s _scared_.  “You’re so stupid, still clinging on to _me.”_

 

“Oi!” Yata jumps to his feet and shoves a pointed finger into Saru’s chest, “I _never_ did! We were equals, you needed me just as much as I needed you!”

 

Saru laughs, loud and obnoxious and his eyes widen with some kind of manic look that makes Yata wonder if he got possessed somewhere in Germany.  “I never needed anybody, dumbass.  Least of all you.  I left you because it benefited me to do so, don’t you get it? I don’t care for silly things like partners or friendships – grow up, Yata, open your eyes and see the world for the disgusting place it is.” 

 

Yata curls his hand into a fist and a battle cry rises up his throat.  But, he looks at the way Saru’s lips tremble around his smirk and the word ‘traitor’ dies on his tongue.  Yata sees the cracks now – he’s not that hot headed dumbass anymore.  It’s weird with all of Saru’s emotions displayed so openly on his face – but perhaps, perhaps that’s proof that it bothers him just as much.

 

Yata uncurls his fist and counts to ten under his breath, “You’re right, I held you back.”

 

Saru leaves him there, curled against the cold, metallic floor of their shared Jaeger, missing Saru’s warmth even if it came with a price.


	3. iii

_“Ah Saruhiko-kun, Misaki is upstairs, would you like to bring some snacks up there?”_

_Misaki’s mother never questions Saruhiko trembling on her doorstep with his face angled down so she can’t see the tears that drip down his nose.  She pretends she doesn’t hear the sob-laden hiccups when he whispers, “No thank you.”_

_When he grows old enough, Saruhiko watches Misaki yearn.  Misaki curls up, nestles his head on his knees and watches his mother laugh and tickle Minoru while his step-father teaches Megumi a new magic trick.  “They’re happy, aren’t they?” Misaki sighs._

_It’s days like these, when Misaki watches them wistfully, that Saruhiko ends up forcibly dragging Misaki from his biological father’s home to spare the bruises.  Misaki’s mother doesn’t treat his wounds anymore – that’s Saruhiko’s job.  She smiles at them while Saruhiko seats Misaki on the toilet, presses a little too much alcohol so Misaki grimaces at the sting and asks them if they would like a snack as if her son hadn’t stumbled inside bearing a torn lip and a broken heart._

_Misaki and Saruhiko have similar fathers, but very different mothers.  Perhaps, Saruhiko wonders, a mother who pretends not to notice and douses him in kindness and sweets is no better than his own who watched him suffer, slowly sipping a cup of tea as if it were his own fault all along._

_And Saruhiko thinks, maybe like him, Misaki doesn’t have a place to call home, either.  Saruhiko watches Misaki gaze into a home – his_ mother’s _new home where he doesn’t fit._

_“Let’s quit school.”  He tells Misaki.  He imagines a world of just the two of them, huddled in an apartment deep in the streets of Tokyo and Saruhiko_ wants _it.  Misaki whoops and throws his fist in the air._

_Saruhiko decides that for once, the rest of his life starts to fall into place around him._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yata’s hand pauses on the doorknob to the Kwoon room.

 

He inhales, his lungs shake but he rubs his chest to quell his pounding heart.  It aches, still, and Yata hates himself a little bit.  Yata brushes his fingers over his neck, a light purple bruise sits just at his collar bone, but the crack in his heart hurts far worse. Yata slams his eyes shut so that when he opens them, colored spots dance in his eyes, with a surge of energy, Yata shoves the door open.

 

“Anna said you would come.” Mikoto smiles. 

 

He’s breathing heavily with sweat dripping down his forehead.  Yata speaks as Mikoto closes his eyes and runs fingers through his matted hair, “I got curious,” he mumbles.  Mikoto collapses into the ring and spreads his arms above his head, he tilts his head back to where Yata stands – only one foot poised in the doorway. 

 

 “Come inside.”

 

Yata stays, for a moment.

 

He doesn’t meet Mikoto’s gaze but glances down to his own hands; he washed the crusted blood from his knuckles moments after Saru left him, yet he still sees the blood dripping from his fingers.  “I don’t want a new partner,” Yata whispers under his breath. 

 

“The world wasn’t made to get what you want.”

 

Yata cringes.  He drags his feet inside; Mikoto studies him as he slowly shuts the door.  Mikoto peers up at him and a bad taste settles at the back of Yata’s throat.  It reminds him a lot of Totsuka, but Mikoto is different.  Totsuka picks up the shattered pieces of Yata’s soul and glues them back together.  But Mikoto – Mikoto spares a glance over his shoulder, gives a quick pat, and puffs out hushed words that sound as if Mikoto uses every last ounce of energy to say them. 

 

The thought that now, even _Mikoto_ tries to stitch Yata back together hurts more than it should.  It proves that, perhaps all the emotions Yata hides leak out anyway.  The small, cynical part of Yata that Saru nurtured bristles – it hates Mikoto digging beneath Yata’s skin, he’s not allowed to do that. 

 

The last time Yata allowed anyone to do that, they dropped his sorry ass and ditched to Germany. 

 

“Sorry, Mikoto-san, I’m starting to think this was a bad idea,” Yata grumbles.  Yata turns on his heels, ready to storm out and curl under his covers for the next week, _again._

Mikoto laughs, he reaches over the side of the ring, snatches Yata’s beanie from his head and tosses it behind him.  “What the hell?” Yata snarls.

 

Mikoto stretches his arms high enough above his head that Yata catches the rippling muscles beneath the sweat-soaked wife beater.  He toes the rusted gate open using his bare foot, the smirk he wears reeks of a challenge.  Mikoto snatches and swirls a bamboo staff around his arms in one swift movement.

 

Yata remembers the first time he watched Mikoto and Reisi spar.  He curled his fingers into Saru’s t-shirt and all of the breath left his lungs – the magic of it all made him giddy, and Yata remembers the bubbly feeling growing in his chest. 

 

His chest sinks, now.  Mikoto dangles his beanie “Want it?” Mikoto beams. 

 

Yata groans, he outstretches a hand for his hat, but Mikoto throws him a bamboo shaft in its place.  He shifts into a protective stance – in front of _Yata’s_ beanie.  “I can’t beat _you.”_ Yata gripes. 

 

Mikoto chuckles, “It’s never a fight to win, it’s a _conversation_. I thought you’d be better at this than words,” 

 

Yata grumbles, “Fuck you.”  He rips off his sneakers and flings them somewhere within the empty bleachers.  Mikoto grins as Yata ignores the open gate and shimmies underneath the ropes. 

 

Yata curls his toes into the mesh carpet; he forgets everything.  All of the memories, the pain, the aches – it all washes over his head. Yata detects the shimmering gold of Mikoto’s sharp eyes that scream at him to _release_. 

 

So, he does.

 

“First to four,” Mikoto declares.

 

Yata twirls the hollow bamboo in his fingers; it hisses as it slashes the air.  Yata relishes the sharp sound that rings in the dead silence between them.  _Damn_ , Yata thinks, _this feels fucking good._

Mikoto swings his staff; his footsteps are featherlight – he moves across the mat in a rhythm Yata struggles to match. He clashes spears with Mikoto; his soul thrumming in his veins.  Mikoto slaps the spear against Yata’s bare ankle, hard enough to sting.  Yata stifles a yelp as he stumbles backwards, Mikoto arches an eyebrow, “1-0,” he drawls.

 

Yata can’t quite match that rhythm.  It’s odd – some bit gentle and some bit violent in each swish of Mikoto’s spear.  He fumbles around Mikoto’s steps, but he finds the words leaking beneath the strikes Yata can’t land. 

 

Yata relishes the thought of finding a match, of _Silverback’s_ cool metal under his fingertips, gazing out into the sparkling ocean with the weight of the world resting on his shoulders yet floating as if weightless all the same.  And Yata would see it all with two pairs of eyes. 

 

Yata blinks rapidly, his mind clears and for once, it’s not _Saru._ Yata’s muscles yearn for _Silverback_ , his heart sings for the ocean and Yata glances up at Mikoto’s spear gently pressed towards the left side of his chest, just above his heart.  “3-0,” Mikoto says gently. 

 

All of the magic rushes through Yata’s veins at once.  The freshness of the ocean, the gross Kaiju flesh bursting under his robotic arms, and he spins the bamboo spear fiercer than he has in two years.  Yata overtakes Mikoto’s steps with his own, spins the spear so he throws him out by the ankles and plants it right against the crown of his vibrant hair.  “3-1.” Yata says, chest heaving for air but smile beaming on his lips.

 

Mikoto tosses the spear and stretches out his hand to snatch Yata’s beanie instead.  “I thought you said –“ Yata starts, Mikoto hushes him by pulling  the beanie over his eyes. 

 

“Welcome back, kid.” He grunts.

 

Yata drops the bamboo stick on his toes, curses loudly and struggles to fix his hat – then, he hears booming laughter. 

 

“He’s a character, but he’s an excellent pilot,”

 

Yata rubs the fuzz out of his eyes; Totsuka Tatara grins at him, and behind him, Yata catches a sea of cadets wearing sparkling smiles of their own.  Yata fixes the beanie to cover his reddening ears, the cadets giddily lean over and it’s not hard to catch the hushed whispers of his name.  “Oi shitheads,” Yata growls.  “Say what you gotta say to my face!” He stomps a menacing foot to the floor of the ring, it doesn’t have quite the affect without his sneakers on carpeted ground. 

 

Mikoto hunches beneath the ropes to trudge over to Totsuka and whisper something quick before shooting Yata a salute. “I’ll see you later,” he calls over his shoulder and the cadets quickly clear an exit before Yata even says a word. 

 

Totsuka reminds him of a cat, a dirty little creature that wears some twisted crown of innocence, “Yata-kun, why don’t you show some cadets how it’s done?”

 

Yata glowers, “No.”

 

Totsuka frowns but Yata maneuvers through the wires and stomps towards the bleachers to find his sneakers.  The embarrassment spikes in his cheeks – he just pinned _Mikoto_ for crying out loud, fuck this.

 

“Yata-san!” A cadet shrieks, “Do you really know Rikio?”

 

“Eh?” Yata throws a glare of over his shoulder as he rummages around for his shoes, “Who the fuck is that?” 

 

A chorus of laughter spreads across the room.  Yata finally spots his sneakers and swings them over his shoulder by the laces.  When he glances back towards the cadets, he finds that man again.  The one with the sweet beard but creepy personality shying away.  “Hey!” Yata points, “You’re that dude that ran into me!”

 

“I didn’t _mean_ to!” The man – Kamamoto, Yata remembers – whines. 

 

Yata clicks his tongue and starts a trek for the door, but the laughter dies around him.  The cadets look at this guy – _Kamamoto_ , Yata corrects – as if he’s tamed some pissed off god.

 

“Rikio-kun wasn’t lying after all,” Totsuka wears that Cheshire grin, he grips Yata’s shoulder and pins him in place. “You did meet Yata-kun.”

 

Kamamoto’s cheeks flame up; the poor guy stutters all over his words and twiddles his thumbs so helplessly Yata feels _bad_.  The other cadets swarm him and in all of the commotion, Totsuka leans over and whispers in his ear, _“Stay.”_

 

Yata rolls his eyes, shrugs Totsuka’s hand from his shoulder and starts for the door again.  But he remembers the roll of bamboo between his fingers and the ocean in his eyes.  Yata groans painfully, “Fine,” he mumbles, tossing the shoes at Totsuka’s feet and carving a new path for the bleachers. “ _Fine.”_

 

Yata recalls the crack of Saru’s nose against his knuckles and the crack of his own skull against _Silverback._ He wonders, perhaps if he’d never made that trip at all; maybe he would have left.

 

Totsuka sits next to him and they watch the cadets stumble around the ring.  They swing the spears as if new animals learning to walk and Yata cringes, leaning towards Totsuka, “Did _I_ look like that?” 

 

Totsuka chuckles, “They all look like that in the beginning,” Totsuka pauses, “You didn’t say _we_ ,”

 

Yata gazes at him, wide-eyed with realization, “I…”

 

Totsuka squeezes a hand over his knee and smiles at him.  “It’s _okay_ , Yata.” 

 

Yata’s shoulders hunch over; he resists the urge to bury his face in his hands and shut out the world all over again.  The thought of returning to his hermit-lifestyle sends a shiver down his spine, “Is it?” he whispers bitterly. “Is it _really_ okay?”

 

“You were a borderline recluse,” Totsuka watches Kamamoto trip over his own feet and slam face-first into the carpet.  Yata winces, that _had_ to hurt.  “You barely spoke for _two_ years,” Totsuka pauses, “I thought I’d lost both of you,”

 

“I’m sorry,” Yata awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, “I guess that wasn’t really fair,” 

 

Kamamoto regains his footing; he stomps rough enough that it leaves indents in the carpet.  He’s a gentle guy, but Yata sees _something_.  There’s fire burning in that man, and Yata sees the flame licking at its opponents.  He catches the openings; Yata traces out a map of footsteps, a line of staff strikes, and a little hope curls in his heart. 

 

Yata shrugs off his beanie and pulls his sweater over his head, “Hey,” he yells out; his heart lodges in his throat.  “Spar with me.”  He forces the words out before his brain shuts down and he chickens out. 

 

A silent plague spreads over the cadets, and Kamamoto looks at him as if he's asking for his first-born child.  “But Yata-san…I’m not…I don’t think… _you pinned Mikoto!_ ” He stammers, helplessly waving his arms.

 

“Just shut up and do what I say,” Yata plucks a bamboo spear from the bins and assumes his stance.  

 

Totsuka crosses his arms with a Cheshire grin painting his face, “First to four!” He calls. 

 

Kamamoto stumbles around him at first, he doesn’t have the fluidity that Yata just saw.  “Stop being so fucking nervous,” he growls.  Yata spins the staff behind him and knocks Kamamoto off his heels and straight on his ass.  “1-0.”  The bamboo sliding in his hands and the hard look in his eyes yell, _you’re better than this, I can sense it_. 

 

Kamamoto struggles to rise, but he squeezes his fingers around the staff and shared adrenaline courses between them.  Yata stays small and uses all the wide openings Kamamoto leaves to squeeze through, yet despite that Kamamoto puts up a weird type of defense that pushes Yata out still. 

 

They move like fluid, and unlike Mikoto there’s a mutual control over their dance.  The steps fall into place, and the rhythm they make settles across the both of them.  Kamamoto tags Yata on his back, Yata retaliates with a hit to his chest, but Yata’s just having _fun_.  He forgets the purpose of the spars, forgets it all and just relishes in the magic of the game and that beautiful rhythm that forms between them. 

 

“Stop!” Totsuka jumps from his seat just before Yata pins Kamamoto once more.  He lost track at this point; they stopped calling out the score and it’s all jumbled and fuzzy in Yata’s brain.  “I think that’s enough.” 

 

Yata gazes towards the stands and Totsuka looks floored; he’s breathless and the genuine smile that spreads in his face makes Yata’s heart leap.  “I think…” he starts, words soft and gaze hard-set on Yata’s face. “I think you should test.  For drift compatibility.” 

 

Yata caresses the spear in his hand, he chances a look at Kamamoto who looks pale as a ghost.  Sweat trickles down his brow and the poor guy pants for breath.  “You think we…that me and _Yata-san_ …”

 

Yata collapses into the ring and throws his hands beneath his head, “You’ve gotta stop stammering if you actually wanna be partners,” 

 

Kamamoto gasps and drops to his knees. He crawls over so his face looms over Yata’s and Yata quickly holds a hand over his face to stop the dribbling sweat.  “You mean that we – “

 

Yata shoves his face away, _“Maybe_.” He corrects, “I…I need some time,”

 

“How about we go take a look at the Jaegers, hm?” Totsuka ushers the cadets through the doors, including Kamamoto, and shoots Yata one last, pained look.  “I really, really think you outta consider it,” he whispers.  He shuts the door, leaving Yata to gaze at an empty ceiling with his chest heaving up and down and nothing but his own, muddled thoughts. 

 

“I know.” He says to no one.  The want for _Saru_ in the back of his mind whines, but the small part of Yata that still wants to pilot begs, as well.  

 

Yata closes his eyes and lets the soft silence lull him to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yata wakes up to someone stabbing him, _hard_ , in the stomach with a bamboo stick.   Hard enough that he lets out a harsh cough and struggles to catch his breath.  He rips his eyes open, Saru grins at him with that _stupid_ , evil smirk.  “What the _hell_ -” Yata snatches the bamboo stick and swirls it around to smack Saru on the head.  “– is your goddamn _problem_?”

 

Saru leans against the poles with his head lazily resting against his elbows.  He clicks his tongue, “Boredom, probably.” 

 

He speaks in that same, _stupid_ , drawl that makes Yata’s blood boil.  He hates the way his eyelids droop and he regards Yata as if watching a lost child stumble around. “What are you even doing here?” he grumbles, curling over his knees and refusing eye contact.

 

“Thought I’d come wake sleeping beauty up – a kiss felt a little too dramatic for poor little Misaki,” Saru runs his fingers along the wired restraints of the ring. 

 

“A punch to the stomach didn’t feel too _harsh_?” Yata snaps. 

 

“A punch to the nose didn’t, apparently.”

 

Yata winces, he glances down at his knuckles and he still pictures the blood soaking his fingers and the feeling still sits unsettled in the pit of his stomach.  “I’m…sorry,” he speaks through his teeth as if it pains him, because it really does, because Yata _is_ sorry. But for all of the wrong reasons. 

 

“Tch…I’m not,” Saru rubs the spot between his eyes and leans further against the banister. 

 

“Did Totsuka-san tell you I was here?” Yata fiddles with the hem of his sweatshirt, it’s unbearably awkward; he doesn’t even know what _Saru_ is doing here.

 

And then – “I guessed myself.”

 

Yata shoots up, just a little, “You came for me.”

 

Saru laughs, loud and ugly, and the pit in Yata’s stomach grows.  “Dumbass,” he pretends to wipe away tears of amusement, “I work in the lab with Totsuka, I came to gather the results from today,” Saru moves, finally, from inside of the ring to the base, where a machine sits. 

 

Yata remembers Saru explaining it, years ago, something about footwork analysis that predicted drift compatibility even before a practice drift.  Yata busied himself with poking a bamboo stick into anyone who crossed his path to really care about that shit, back then. 

 

Yata sinks back, embarrassment doesn’t crawl up its throat; it’s raw disappointment.  He got well acquainted with that in the last two years.

 

“Ah, looks like you and Mikoto are fifty percent compatible,” Saru drawls.

 

“Shut up.” Yata falls back on the mat.  His heart whimpers, the one who matched his moves so _perfectly_ stands ten feet away, fiddling away with that damn machine instead of rolling over the mats with _him_.  Yata shuts his dumb, frail, little heart up – it doesn’t matter anymore. 

 

“Eighty-nine.” 

 

“Eh?” Yata tilts his head over the ring and looks over to see Saru glaring at the screen, fingers trembling and a flash of pain shooting quickly over his face before it disappears, so quickly that if Yata hadn’t spent over ten years of his life memorizing every last detail about him, he would miss it.

 

“You sparred with someone else, and you matched eight-nine percent.” Saru says, back to the annoying drawl that makes Yata want to yank his own hair out. 

 

“With Kamamoto?” He blinks in shock, “Eighty-nine?”  It’s a pretty remarkable number.  Yata laughs bitterly, he and Saru hold the record after all.

 

Yata wonders just how much that changed over two years. 

 

He grabs two bamboo sticks from the holder and whips one at Saru without a word.  As expected, he catches it easily.  “Spar with me,” Yata demands, he doesn’t betray any emotion, he looks down at Saru with pertinent determination and jumps to his feet.  “First to four.” 

 

Yata half-expects Saru to sneer and parade out like the proud idiot he is – but Saru carefully removes his clothing as well and steps into the ring.  “First to four,” he affirms. 

 

Then, they dance. 

 

It’s different than with Kamamoto or Mikoto.  Mikoto was predatory, crowding into Yata’s space, his spear demanded answers contradictory to the nonchalant aura Mikoto strives to create.  Yata acted as the dominant with Kamamoto, slipping through the cracks in his shaky stance to strike, yet still – Kamamoto’s spear asked for guidance. 

 

But _this –_ this is a _conversation_. 

 

Yata doesn’t play to win, he plays to _move_.  He twirls his staff and feathers his footsteps around the mat and Saru matches them.  They don’t look at each other, and briefly Yata catches Saru _close_ his eyes, but the beat sings to the tune of their hearts and Yata doesn’t need to see a thing to follow it. They align together, like this. 

 

Yata thinks back to legends about soulmates and other halves and he wonders how this could be anything but.  He sways to the beat that Saru creates and the grace with which they dance makes Yata pant with exhaustion.  Saru pushes him, farther than Yata’s ever been pushed, to the brink of collapsing but Yata courses forward.  It feels so _good_ ; all that’s missing is falling against Saru’s side, laying with their shoulders pressed together until their eyelids droop and they drift to sleep, shrouded in each other’s warmth. 

 

The machine at the side of the ring creates a shrill ringing, enough that it throws Yata off balance and Saru knocks him off his feet. 

 

Saru smirks down at him and tosses his spear, “Same old Misaki making the same old mistakes,” 

 

Saru slips out of the ring to gather the remaining data from his contraption, but his fingers still over the wailing noise the thing makes.  Saru removes his hand, as if burned, and glares between the ever-screaming box and Yata as if they simultaneously caused all of his problems. “I’m leaving,” Saru declares, and rushes out of the Kwoon room sporting a peeved expression. 

 

When Yata dips over to stop that horrid noise, a glaring ‘ninety-nine percent’ beeps back at him. 

 

It makes him sick to his stomach, too. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“Misaki!”_  Anna shoves out of her chair and tumbles straight into his arms.  The director’s office looks as unused and pristine as Yata remembers.  Suspiciously, he’s _never_ met the director, the only person Yata’s _ever_ seen sit in that chair is Anna – Yata really doesn’t want to convince himself that the director of a highly serious, emergency-level corporation is an eleven-year-old.

 

But, well, she’s a _genius_ eleven-year-old.

 

Yata steadies her against his chest with a loud _‘oof!’_ and chuckles as Anna buries her face into his stomach.  “I get it, you missed me,” he laughs, but he relishes the moment and squeezes her back with a fervor.  He runs his fingers through the lengthy strands of silver hair and Anna relaxes into him, “How are you?”

 

“Lonely.” Anna whispers, still buried face-deep into his sweater, she curls her fingers deeper and Yata almost feels responsible.  _You are_ , he reminds himself – in a way, _both_ of them are.

 

“I’m…sorry,” Yata slumps a little bit and Anna finally releases him.  “But I promise I won’t do that again, I won’t let you be lonely anymore.” 

 

It’s worth it – to see the bright color spring to Anna’s face.  She clutches his hands softly, and the look she gives him makes Yata regret leaving in the beginning.  She pulls him closer to the sofa and pushes him back before crawling into his lap and settling for nuzzling his face against the crook of his neck.  And all of that really makes the guilt climb up his throat. Anna really only does this when people she cares about come back after a great deal of hurt. 

 

This time, it’s his fault. 

 

He wonders though, if Saru has visited Anna at all, if she crawled onto him like this to say ‘ _I missed you.’_ In the only way Anna knows.  Anna reaches out for his hands and squeezes them in her own, tiny ones.

 

“Misaki is coming back?”  Anna squeezes tighter.

 

Yata grins, “I think…I think I’ve found someone, a new drift partner, so yea – I’m coming back.”

 

Anna’s smile falls. 

 

She blinks and stares up at him with a deadpan look before rummaging through the many folds of her dress and pulling out a single, red marble.  She presses it against Yata’s palm and continues to pin him with that empty, blank, stare.  “A-Ah…what’s this for?” 

 

Anna gently pats the marble enclosed in his fist. 

 

“Misaki is stupid.”


	4. iv

_“He doesn’t like you.”_

_Aya hovers a sharp stick just above the screen of Yata’s Gameboy.  Yata hisses and scrambles backwards and clutches the toy against his chest.  He narrows his eyes, “So? Why are you taking that out on_ my _Gameboy?”_

 

 _“Don’t you get it?!” Aya’s voice quivers.  Her eyes twitch as she glares at him.  Her grip tightens on the stick that looks extremely unnatural, Yata notices.  The end looks meticulously carved, and the way the hilt settles so seamlessly in Aya’s palm, it resembles a sword.  “He doesn’t_ like _you.”_

_“He doesn’t like_ you _, either!” Yata spits._

_Aya rubs the wetness from her eyes and curls her fingers tighter around the shitty excuse for a weapon.  Yata doesn’t run.  “I don’t understand,” Aya whispers; she trembles as she stands. “I don’t understand why he chose_ you. _”_

_“I don’t really know either.”  Yata rolls his shoulders into a shrug, and the nonchalance of it all rips a shout from Aya’s throat._

_She screams intangible words and thrusts the knife towards his chest.  She widens her eyes and for a moment, there’s a psychotic glint Yata’s never seen; he freezes in place._ How lame _, he thinks,_ I’m gonna be stabbed by a wooden stick to death.  _But despite the terror simmering in his veins, Yata wishes Saru was here to witness the hilarity of that.  And Yata grudgingly allows Saru to encompass his final thoughts._

_Rough hands snatch Yata by the shoulders, and he recognizes the long fingers digging into his skin.  Saru jerks Yata so that he clumsily tumbles into his chest.  Saru throws his hands just above Yata’s heart.  The wooden spear pierces his flesh; a fresh stream of blood trickles down through Saru’s fingers and settle into the crevices of his palm along the way._

_“You’re both so goddamn dramatic.”  Saru drawls.  His tone embodies the same boredom as when Yata crawls on him to beat a particularly rough level._

_Aya drops her make-shift sword as if it burns her.  Her widened eyes stare between Yata and the small droplets of blood quickly drying against Saru’s hand.  She fumbles out something – not an apology but not words Yata can understand – and she sprints away._

_Yata doesn’t see her ever again._

_“The first aid kit is still in my bathroom.”  Yata joins their hands and ignores Saru’s blood sticking to his own palms.  Later, when Yata goes to patch Saru’s wounds, they’ll notice the deep red has neatly filled the entirety of Yata’s lifeline._

_It’s fitting._

**“Are they settled??”**

 

The crew secures Yata’s skin-tight suit.  The zipper sticks to his spine, and the faint memory of sweat accumulating in places Yata never thought _possible_ resurfaces, but the jitters still dance in his stomach.  Excitement thrums around him; the smile stretches on his face despite Yata’s efforts to contain it.  Chitose tosses him a sly grin and smacks him on the back.  “Yata’s good,” he calls on the com. 

Yata twists his metal-encased neck to spare a glance at Kamamoto.  Yata chuckles under his breath; the suit restricts all movement, but Yata bets Kamamoto’s whole-body quivers underneath.  “Yata-san…”  Kamamoto cranes his neck in Yata’s direction, “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

 

“If you puke in my Jaeger.  I’ll eject you for the sharks.”

 

“…. there are _sharks_?” Kamamoto’s face pales; if he hasn’t pissed himself already, Yata’s sure he’s about to.  “T-Totsuka-san, are there _really – “_

**“No, Kamamoto.”**  Boisterous laughter fills the room at the exasperated sigh Totsuka releases, **“Yata is being mean to you.”**

Yata’s laughter melds in with the rest of them, Chitose even clings to his shoulder, clutching his stomach as Kamamoto blubbers something.  One of Kamamoto’s suiters even yells something about his ears reddening and Yata’s heart swells a little. 

 

It’s not home.  It’s not _Saru_.

 

But it’s _promise_.  

 

**“Initiating the drift in 3…2…1”**

The world falls beneath his feet and Yata floats.  Weightlessness settles around the enveloping darkness that covers his vision but Yata doesn’t really mind.  He settles into the deafening silence, coldness doesn’t seep into his bones – neither does fear.  Yata lets his mind drift, idly searching for Kamamoto.  Under his own thoughts, Kamamoto’s pinpricks of fear stud the forming connection. 

 

It’s strange – all of this.  Yata settles into a muddled darkness, and the dots of light that surround him reflect Kamamoto’s struggle to connect.  He wonders if this marks the difference between dominant pilots; he wonders if Saru ever outstretched a metaphorical hand, waiting for Yata to grasp it so he could yank him into the connection. 

 

Kamamoto stumbles into his brain and Yata quickly slams his eyes shut and creates a mental image of a concrete wall guarding anything to do with Fushimi Saruhiko.  Kamamoto’s thoughts filter into his own, and memories flood between them.  Kamamoto halts at Yata’s walls, but the thoughts that ricochet around the connection are littered with solidarity; Yata carefully threads around Kamamoto’s walls as well. 

 

 _You okay?_ Yata projects.

 

Kamamoto fumbles trying to form stable words, Yata pictures him floating, bumping across a mixture of their memories and represses a laugh.  _I…think…so?_

 

Yata’s chuckle flits between them and Kamamoto sends back a huff, but it’s laced with warmth and it makes Yata’s insides fuzzy.  Memories of Saru poke at him, but he expels them in a way he never felt able to before; he shoves them back into the concrete-gated wall and revels in the pride that settles in his chest. 

 

**“Drift stabilized at eighty-nine percent, initiating neural handshake.”**

The ground disappears beneath his feet and the rush of weightlessness encompasses Yata’s brain.  The emptiness shrouds over his heart, but it doesn’t scare him.  The fear that once made him quake doesn’t come; he’s experienced far worse these days.

 

Yata allows the darkness to carry him across the drift.  It’s like he crosses a bridge, the gentle lull of _Silverback_ waiting for him at the other side.  His limbs go numb, but a soft breeze ushers him through.  It plays with his hair and surrounds him completely, and Yata almost _swears_ it’s her.  Yata imagines her purring against his heart, pulling him home. 

 

Yata settles into _Silverback_ first.  He’s used to settling in tune with Saru, ripping his eyes open and grasping for breath that the darkness stole from him.  The darkness has nothing on him now, he lived with the harsh pressure pounding on his lungs for two years; this is nothing.

 

“Yata in place.” He calls over the com. 

 

Seconds later – “Kamamoto in place.”

 

 **“Okay.”** Yata hears the underlying joy in Totsuka’s breath.  **“This is going to be new for the both of you.  Yata, you’ve never been the dominant pilot.  Kamamoto, you’ve never been _a_ pilot. So, both of you follow my instructions carefully, and _don’t_ get ahead of yourselves.  That’s meant for you, Yata-kun.” **

Kamamoto giggles as Yata bristles against the connection.  “Yea, yea, I got it already!” he snaps back. 

 

**“Both of you lift your arms.”**

 

Yata struggles at first.  He hears _Silverback_ nosing at him.  It’s as if she asks, _where is he? Why are you on the right? What’s going on?_ Yata nudges her softly; it strains his muscles, but Yata successfully raises her right arm. 

 

He catches a sharp gasp from Kamamoto beside him and thoughts of failure flicker across the drift.  “I…I _can’t_.”  he whines. 

 

“Oi!” Yata barks, “What do you mean, you dumb- “

 

 **“Yata.”** Totsuka warns. **“It’s okay Kamamoto-kun, you _can._ Just picture yourself as a piece of the Jaeger.” **

“I’m trying!” Kamamoto gasps, the raggedness flits into the drift and Yata doesn’t understand.  He’s never felt like that with Saru, even during their first few trials. 

 

**“She has to recognize you as her pilot.”**

Yata groans, he lashes back at his own connection with _Silverback_ and she whips back at him as if burned. _Where is HE?_ Yata hears it in her metal rivets, whining for their _true_ master. 

 

Anger rushes in his veins.  He’s standing here, arguing with a giant metallic robot, that _refuses_ to acknowledge anyone but that dumbass monkey to stand beside him.  The monkey that _left_ him, that left _them._  Yata breathes sharply through his nose and let’s _Silverback_ shroud over him until Yata Misaki becomes a low afterthought in his brain.  Her pain floods over him; her yearning for _Saru_ floods over him, and Yata can’t offer any consolation. 

 

It’s not the robot, it’s not Kamamoto – it’s him. 

 

It’s a piece of his own young-self he left behind in _Silverback_ that begs for Saru to return.  He hears himself, filtering through the cracks of a robot wondering _why_?  Yata allows that feeling to consume his brain until he dampens it.  _He left us_ ; _he left us but we’re stronger than that, we can do better than him._

_Silverback_ whimpers but releases her hold.  A piece of her nudges against the back of Yata’s mind – it makes Yata sick to his stomach and the word _traitor_ dancing on his lips is directed at himself. 

 

“I…I’m doing it!” Kamamoto cries. 

 

 _Silverback’s_ left hand slowly comes into focus.  The pink and blue paint glisten against the harsh lightning and Kamamoto’s awe filters across the connection.  Yata’s torn from his thoughts as he listens to Kamamoto’s boisterous laughter fill the pod around him. Yata’s lips twitch into a smile; it’s a magical thing to watch someone slot into a Jaeger for the first time. 

 

**“Do you feel ready for an ocean run?”**

Kamamoto gasps aloud; his anxiety-filled joy floods the connection.  On the surface, Yata distinguishes all of Kamamoto’s insecurities.  But underneath all of that – it’s a familiar feeling.  It reminds him of the first night he took the Jaeger out – minus the legality issues.  Yata actually chuckles at the memory.   “Let’s do it,” he calls out. Kamamoto cranes his neck beside him, but Yata doesn’t need to look at his face.  He _feels_ the ear-splitting grin surrounding his conscious. 

 

It’s all so _right._

Walking is not so right.

 

Totsuka throws open the hangar gateway; Yata gazes off and sees the floor of the ocean off in the horizon.  He already relishes the cool water dancing through his metallic toes and he throws a foot forward to rush at it.  Kamamoto shrieks beside him and it takes three helicopters to re-establish their footing. 

 

Yata hears Totsuka laugh under his breath, **“Not so excited, Yata-kun.  You have to form a rhythm.”**

Yata grumbles across the connection and Kamamoto lightly lashes back, but behind the carefully constructed walls, it reminds Yata of Saru. They had a rhythm established, and _Silverback_ was moving seconds after crossing the handshake.  Yata prods at his thoughts encased within the walls.  _This is how it feels when you’re not with your soulmate._   

 

Yata squashes the words as they filter through.  _Soulmate?_ He spits.  _That asshole left us, he’s not our soulmate. Soulmates don’t_ do _that_. 

 

 _Silverback_ whimpers in his mind again, and guilt climbs up Yata’s throat but shakes it off. _Follow my lead_.  He thinks at Kamamoto.  

 

Yata scrambles a rhythm together, but it ends up too fast and they stumble again.  _I can’t keep up!_ Kamamoto cries back at him. 

 

Yata sighs, the taste of the ocean air sharp on his tongue, he reminisces about the cold breeze for a moment and sighs.  _What’s your favorite song?_

Kamamoto names a crap ton of new hip-hop stuff Yata’s never heard of, and it takes a lot of mental energy to stop the groan from escaping into the connection.  But then, finally – _do you know the song Staying Alive?_

Yata blinks. _That stupid American shit from the 70s?_

_Yes!_ Kamamoto sings, _It’s one of my dad’s favorites._

 

Yata allows Kamamoto to hum the song; shockingly, they _move_.  Glorious joy bounces between them, and Yata can’t stop the _whoop_ that escapes his thoughts.  He even catches the remnants of cheers back in the con room with Totsuka. 

 

**“I don’t know what you just did... but do that again.”**

 

Once again, Kamamoto hums to the beat with Yata joining him, and albeit shakily, their Jaeger takes her first steps out into the clearing. 

 

The nostalgia rushes into Yata’s veins all at once.  He wants to sprint out into the ocean, he wants to dirty up the Jaeger and hear Totsuka sigh at all the sand that clogs up the rivets and the water that rusts away the metal - and he wants it _all_.  It takes a lot of will to slowly allow Kamamoto to adjust to half a giant robot resting on his head. 

 

But Yata uses that to relish all the emotions.  He sits back and allows Kamamoto’s thoughts, unfiltered, to wash over his brain.  He almost experiences the magic of it all for the first time all over again, and Yata bites his lip to stop the grin threatening to form. 

 

After a painstakingly long trip, they make it to the ocean and Kamamoto gasps. 

 

_Beautiful._

 

 _Isn’t it?_ Yata chuckles. 

 

Warmth spreads between them, and when Yata cranes his neck, he catches Kamamoto’s starry-eyed expression.  His eyes shimmer and Yata swears he’ll start crying any second, but he only filters warm, comforting thoughts across the bond.  It says: _I know, it’s too beautiful, isn’t it?_  

 

A sob hikes up Kamamoto’s throat. _It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen._    

 

Yata shuts his eyes and sucks in a deep breath.  Even through their suit, he imagines the fresh air sliding down his throat, the soft breeze flowing through his hair, and the piece of him he left in _Silverback_ all those years ago crawls out as well, as if tasting the air for itself.  As if coming out and saying, _maybe we don’t really need him, after all._

_Damn straight we don’t._ Yata cheers.

 

They stand like that for a long time, allowing the ocean breeze to surround _Silverback,_ and Yata drowns in how long Kamamoto’s pure joy lasts.  Kamamoto throws his arms out and closes his eyes and it reminds Yata so much of his younger self.

 

**“Alright boys, you’re going to have to bring her back now – we can’t have giant robots ogling the ocean forever.”**

 

Yata senses the regret in Kamamoto’s mind and laughs.  _We’ll be back here, soon._  He tells him, _we’ll be back here real soon.  Once you’ve tasted it, you have to taste it again._

He leaves out the part about a torturous betrayal – Yata will ensure that _never_ happens. 

 

Not on his watch.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yata throws the door open to the bar, ready for Kusanagi to grill him with questions, but it’s empty except for Mikoto lounging in the corner. “A-Ah, Mikoto-san!” Yata quickly bows and Mikoto tosses him an acknowledging nod.  “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here, I’ll lea- “

 

“Stay.” Mikoto says.

 

Yata tenderly sits on one of the velvet couches across from Mikoto.  He holds a cigarette in his mouth, and Yata watches Mikoto’s eyes lazily trail the line of smoke before he snuffs it out.  He lets his eyes fall shut, arms spread across the couch as if he’s prepared to fall asleep.  “You took her out.” 

 

Yata swallows. “I did.”

 

“Not with Fushimi.”

 

“No.” Yata says, “With someone else.” 

 

Mikoto huffs out a breath, “Anna thinks that’s a mistake.”

 

Yata freezes – Mikoto’s eyes remain shut.  “You said Anna’s always _right_.”

 

For that, Mikoto opens his eyes.  He watches Yata fist his hands into the fabric of his shorts with rage bubbling beneath his skin. “She’s not always right.”

 

“She’s _usually_ right,” Yata amends with clenched teeth. “…do you think she’s wrong?”

 

“It’s not my choice.”  Mikoto simply shrugs.

 

Yata mumbles _cryptic piece of shit_ just under his breath, and if Mikoto hears it – well that slight twinge of his lips into a smirk shows it.  “Saruhiko…” Yata’s tongue goes dry just saying the name. “He didn’t like you.” 

 

Mikoto leans farther back into the velvet sofa and throws his legs over the coffee table so the tips of his shoes miss Yata’s knees by a centimeter.  “A lot of people don’t – Reisi didn’t.  Still doesn’t, I don’t think.”

 

Yata growls, “But – “

 

“I _know_ Fushimi didn’t like me.”

 

Yata’s words die in his throat.  “Why then?” he whispers.  “Anna adores you – she fucking _runs_ this place, why is she so hell-set on me partnering with someone who hates your guts? Why does _everyone_ want that?”

 

“Do you?” Mikoto questions.  He lifts his head an inch so his vibrant gold eyes stare into Yata’s soul.  “Do you want him?”

 

“I…I don’t know.” Yata answers.  A chill runs down his spine, the raw _honesty_ in his own voice terrifies him.  He imagines someone placing both Kamamoto and Saruhiko in front of him – his heart sings and rushes towards Saru.  He pictures himself falling into that embrace with Saru’s arms wrapping around his waist and burying his face in his chest.  He _knows_ what he wants.  “I can’t have what I want.” Yata’s voice cracks on the words; he stomps on the pathetic urge to cry. 

 

“That’s what Anna’s sensing.” Mikoto stretches his arms out and releases a large yawn. 

 

“But that can’t be – “

 

“She doesn’t _have_ to be right.” Mikoto says.  He pushes up and leans over on his knees, so he meets Yata’s eyes.  The striking gold sends shivers down his back and it’s almost hard for Yata to hold eye contact.  “Anna knows what your heart wants, and what his heart wants – and when two hearts want the same thing – but no one’s doing anything about – that’s rather stupid – that’s all Anna thinks.” 

 

“I…I think I should go.”

 

Mikoto watches Yata stumble over the couch and practically fall through the doorway.  He settles back against the couch. “And he thinks _he_ got the stubborn kid.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The air tenses when Munakata Reisi strolls into the labs.  Saruhiko’s shoulders square but he forces them down and masks his shock into his favorite blank expression.  “Can I help you?” he drawls. 

 

Munakata gracefully seats himself atop a table, carefully shoving a number of Saru’s tools to the side and smirks.  Saruhiko suddenly pictures Misaki shivering and hiding behind him.  _“He’s a creep, Saru! I think he’s gonna eat me…”_  Saruhiko pushes those thoughts straight from his mind before they have a chance to settle. 

 

“How was your trip?”

 

“None of my research concerns you.” Saruhiko says. 

 

“That it does not,” Reisi agrees easily, he adjusts the frame of his glasses and leans back on his palms.  Not once does he remove his eyes from Saruhiko. Reisi strikes vulnerability into his bones; it forces Saruhiko to tense his shoulders and monitor his mask with more care than ever.  “I was simply wondering how you’re doing.” 

 

“Fine.”  Saruhiko narrows his eyes.

 

“How is your friend – Yata, I think.  Have you spoken?” 

 

Saruhiko’s heart skips a beat. “I’ve seen Misaki around.” 

 

“He’s gotten a new partner.” 

 

Saruhiko’s face falls.  He can’t stop the pure rage that claws up his stomach from displaying on his face.  He whisks it away as quickly as he can – but he can’t erase the damage.  Reisi’s smirk _almost_ resembles a smile.  “I suppose you don’t like that.  Kushina doesn’t.”

 

“Anna?” Saruhiko eases away the tremble that threatens to leak.  He _doesn’t_ care. 

 

“She told Mikoto your heart wasn’t in it. “

 

Saruhiko clicks his tongue, “Why would my heart be in something I’m not piloting.”

 

 

“If it’s any consolation-“ Reisi pauses to readjust the frames on his glasses and tap his fingers along the bench-top.  “Apparently the other guy had a lot of trouble trying to make your Jaeger move this morning.  Your friend managed to walk him through it.”

 

“Misaki did?”  Saruhiko’s heart falls. 

 

“For someone who left claiming to hate piloting – this seems to upset you.”  Reisi muses.  “They did well – they got as far as the ocean, and I believe they’ve already got their next practice session planned.”

 

Saruhiko’s heart whines in his chest.  “I don’t see why any of this concerns me.” He forces out, but so many questions dance in his head.  When the word _betrayal_ dances around into thoughts, the burnt, brittle taste of ashes settle on his tongue with it because as far as Misaki is concerned – Saruhiko did it _first_. 

 

“You also outta know – _she_ will not accept someone so easily.” Reisi grins.

 

“That doesn’t help.” Saru snarls, teeth clenched together.

 

“So that _means_ ,” Reisi continues – unperturbed – “Yata-kun had to allow another pilot to wield her.” 

 

“That still _doesn’t – “_

“And they had a really rough time of it, at first.” Reisi finishes, smirk evident on his face. 

 

Saruhiko’s words stutter to a stop, and he can’t hide the wide-eyed expression that paints his face as Reisi grins down at him.  “That’s what Anna thinks, anyway.” 

 

“Anna is always right.”  Saruhiko whispers. 

 

“Mikoto says that,” Reisi frowns.  “Anyways, I should be going – but I hear it’s going to rain tonight.  I love spending time in the rain on the rooftop of the west apartments; it’s a rather gorgeous sight if you don’t mind getting a little wet.” 

 

Saruhiko shoves past him. 

 

“And Mikoto thinks _he_ can play people.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You took her out.”

 

Yata sits, his legs hanging off the edge of his dorm rooftops, with his back facing that voice.  “She needed some attention,” he bites back.  Yata doesn’t turn around; Saru doesn’t come to him. 

 

Saru clicks his tongue, and Yata hears him scoff from ten feet away.  “She’s a robot, she doesn’t _need_ anything.” Saru snaps at him.  “You’re delusional.”

 

“You’re a _bitch_.”  Yata whips his head around and spits the insult as if it burns him.  And for a brief second, Saru glares dagger into his soul and Yata _knows_ it affects him.  “Why are you even _here?_ You left _me_.” He grumbles, whipping his head back around.  Yata rests his forehead against the cold, metal bars that guard the edge of the rooftop.  Grudgingly, dragging his feet as if every step drains a ridiculous amount of energy, Saru trudges to stand beside him. 

 

Yata hates the way his heart leaps. 

 

“I didn’t _leave_ -” Saru rolls his eyes, “I decided piloting wasn’t for me, I can’t make that decision on my own?” 

 

Yata hates this.  He hates Saru twisting the words so it makes Yata the bad guy.  Deep down, he still wonders that.  It claws at his heart in the middle of the night that perhaps all of these years, Saru suffered climbing into _Silverback_ , that he suffered parading next to _Yata_.  With stupid, _stupid_ Yata none the wiser. “You could have told me,” he mumbles.  “I would have listened if you _told_ me.”

 

Saru huffs, “I _did_ tell you.”

 

“Not twenty minutes before you’re getting on a fucking plane, asshole!” Yata slams his palms against the railing; his palms sting and if he looked down, he’d see red welts already forming.  He looks in front of him instead, allowing his eyes to marvel at the glowing city lights even if his heart cries.  If he looked beside him, he’d catch Saru staring at Yata’s hands. 

 

“Oh, _Misaki._ ” Saru sings, and Yata cringes at the creepy voice.  “Would you have listened? You give yourself all this credit, but did it ever occur to you – I never wanted to ride in that _thing,_ anyways?”  Saru laughs a raw, evil, laugh.  “Just for _one_ second, open your eyes and see if maybe _you_ were the wrong one.”

 

Blood boils under his skin, Yata resists the clawing urge to dig his nails into his palms.  If he does, he’s so _pissed_ , he’ll do it hard enough to draw blood.  Yata steels his heart, mentally counts the beats that pound against his chest, and _remembers._ Yata remembers Saru squeezing, Saru touching, Saru _reaching_ and he has to bite his lip not to laugh. 

 

He still knows what all of the touches mean, and he remembers how warm Saru’s skin felt pressed up against him as they lay on the rooftop like this.  They’d lay shoulder to shoulder, sometimes Saru would trace the lines of Yata’s palm with his slender fingers.  And all of the little touches, bundled together would mean: _I’m happy here_. 

 

“You’re a good liar.” Yata grins, he even has the audacity to spare a glance in Saru’s direction.  “But you can’t lie to _me._ ”

 

“You don’t understand _anything._ ” Saru drawls. 

 

Yata silences a grin.  He’s mastered the art of steeling his expressions, of steeling his voice, but Fushimi Saruhiko _cannot_ control his movements.  He leans over the railing, leaning on his elbow to peer down at Yata while the other hand grips the railing so tight that his knuckles turn white.  He _can’t_ hide this.

 

“You keep saying that.” Yata sighs.  It’s not angry, not upset, just – _exhausted_.  “I don’t know what you mean.” 

 

“It means Misaki is stupid,” Saru shrugs. 

 

“I’ve always been _stupid.”_ Yata whispers, curling his hands around the metal railings, “And I always had you to explain it to me.”

 

Saru sneers, “I’m not going to baby you.”

 

“I’m not asking you to!” Yata snaps; desperation laces his voice.  “Just tell me what I did _wrong_.”

 

“I’m leaving.” 

 

 _“Stop.”_  Yata reaches out and grabs Saru’s wrist.  The wrist clenches in his grasp; tension flares up and Saru wears an expression that betrays nothing but _stoicism._ “Stop doing this!” Yata cries; tears prick in his eyes – he doesn’t bother wiping them away.  “Stop running away from me – what did I do that was so bad? Do you really hate me _that_ much? You were my best fucking friend – you _are_ my best fucking friend. So you don’t wanna pilot a dumb Jaeger – whatever you don’t have to – but just _please_ don’t leave me.” 

 

Yata’s chest heaves and his heart pounds against his ribs.  Saru stares out across the sea of lights and stares until droplets of rain fall around them.  They hide the tears forming in Yata’s eyes.  Saru wrenches his hand away and laughs.  “You’re so stupid, _Misaki,_ crawling back to the man who makes you cry.”

 

Yata sits there, maybe minutes go by, maybe hours – but he cries every last tear in his body. 

 

He cries until Totsuka drags him inside from the rain. 

 

He cries until he falls asleep that way, face buried in a tear-stained pillow as his soul bleeds out from his heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the late update!! 
> 
> I originally wanted to post this morning, but the archive was down :/ And of course by the time it came back up i was just starting a lovely 8 hour shift which was no fun, hope this is worth the wait!!


	5. v

_“It’s just a couple of kids Mikoto, don’t bug them.”_

_Saru puffs out his chest and glares at the men smirking at them; Misaki curls behind him.  Saru fumbles around until he reaches Misaki’s sweaty palms.  He furrows his eyebrows.  Saru squeezes in a way that says, ‘don’t acknowledge them, something’s not right.’  Misaki agrees; he presses closer into Saru’s back.  A red-haired man clicks his tongue._

_“Do you have a problem?” Saru narrows his eyes._

_One of the men grins; he blows out a curl of smoke from the cigarette hanging from his lips.  He runs his fingers through his shaggy, blonde hair and shimmies his sunglasses down his nose to get a better look at them.  “You look like a promising pair of kids,” He grins.  Saru tightens his grip on Misaki, and Misaki’s heartbeat thunders in his ears._

_Something feels weird._

_It doesn’t feel wrong – just weird.  The red-haired man twirls their empty cola bottle – Misaki had thrown it out of frustration – between his fingers and lazily peers down at them.  He emits some kind of aura, something that makes Misaki want to_ listen _.  Yet Misaki knows Saru, and he senses the apprehension bleeding off his skin – Saru is not one to give in to those feelings._

_“Stop bothering a bunch of kids.” Someone else – much younger, probably – tugs on the blonde man’s ear hard enough so he yelps.  “Are you boys in middle school?”_

_“No.” Saru says coldly.  “We have no business with you.”_

_“I’m Totsuka Tatara.”  Totsuka grins down at them. His smile crawls underneath Misaki’s skin; it causes Saru to dig his nails into Misaki’s palms deep enough that he nearly breaks skin.  Saru leans forward and shields Misaki with his own body. “You’re a pair of cute kids.”_

_Saru snarls._

_“We’re not cute!” Yata snaps; he shoves his head underneath Saru’s elbow, “We’re practically adults – we even have an apartment by ourselves!”_

_Saru squeezes his shoulders and yanks him back.  The two blonde men share a look, and the little smirk each of them wears sends a wave of uneasiness to pool in Misaki’s stomach.  “Alone, huh?”  Misaki swallows nervously.  “What do you wanna do with yourselves?”_

_“None of your business.” Saru says – he slams down each look laced with kindness as if it burns him.  “We definitely don’t need your pity.”_

_“We weren’t offering it.”  The main with red hair finally speaks.  He’s different than the rest – Misaki notes – he looks as if he doesn’t give a shit.  One hand is lazily shoved in his pocket and he uses the other to toss the empty cola bottle inches away from Saru’s head.  It clatters on the pavement and rolls to the base of Saru’s feet; Misaki senses the fear rolling off Saru’s body._

_“If you boys ever want to have some fun, come to Homra.”  The blonde man with the sunglasses offers them a mock salute before they all saunter off._

_“Homra?” Yata repeats, “What’s that?”_

_“It’s Japan’s last defense against the Kaiju.”_

Hands roam all over Yata’s body; _Silverback’s_ team straps him in. 

 

He woke up thirty minutes ago; inhaled at least two full coffee cups, yet he yawns so hard it actually brings tears to his eyes and Totsuka chuckles over the com.  **“Your awfully relaxed for someone about to fight a Kaiju.”**

****

Yata grins. 

 

He rolls his shoulders back; a cocky grin that paints his face.   For a few weeks, they practiced drifting and connecting over the neural handshake.  Of course, nothing compares to fighting a real, living, breathing Kaiju – but it’s safe to say the connection is stable enough, _finally._  

 

And Yata is _excited_. 

 

Kamamoto’s nervous excitement beside him only fuels the fire.  “We’re gonna do it,” he whispers; the giddy excitement drips from his voice, “We’re actually gonna do it!” 

 

Yata sighs and closes his eyes as the team secures them.  He listens to the idle chatter over the com – it’s nothing amazing, the Kaiju is only a category II, and Yata has dealt with far worse before.   They haven’t had such a low category in months – category III’s and IV’s have dominated the scene, so when _this_ popped up – Yata jumped on it for Kamamoto’s sake. 

 

And perhaps, he’s been craving a little action to clear his mind from _other_ issues.

 

**“Initiating the drift.”**

****

Yata succumbs to the familiar pull of darkness, it takes Kamamoto a little bit longer to find him.  Yata places an extra layer of concrete over all his darkest memories – he doesn’t want _anything_ to ruin this.  But he does allow all the emotions of his first Kaiju battle to filter through, he remembers all of the adrenaline coursing through his veins. 

 

**“Ready for the handshake?”**

“Yes, sir!” They call out together. Kamamoto cranes his neck to toss Yata a grin.  Yata returns a thumbs up and chuckles under his breath. 

 

Once they slot into _Silverback_ , Totsuka opens the door to the hangar and they take their first steps out into the open.  Kamamoto’s heart thunders in his chest – Yata can feel it beating through the drift.  _Excited?_

Kamamoto swallows, he _is_ – Yata feels that – but nervousness pokes at the drift as well.  _Sort of._  Kamamoto mumbles. 

 

 _You’re gonna be fine._  Yata sends encouragement between them. _It’s terrifying, but once you take this down – you’re gonna feel on top of the world.  I promise it’s amazing._

 

Kamamoto nestles into the drift with a broad smile painting his face.  _I can’t wait for that, then._

They reach the edge of the ocean when Totsuka speaks to them again.  **“Alright boys, hang low until she comes for you.”**

 

“Yes, sir!” Kamamoto calls, he even pulls the left arm of _Silverback_ up into a salute and Yata giggles under his breath.

 

They wade across the water until it rests about the height of _Silverback’s_ ankles.  The waves gently lap at her metallic joints and Yata settles back to wait. 

 

Kamamoto’s jitters dance across the connection.  _I’m scared_. 

 

Yata’s not used to dominating.  He usually crawls into Saru’s arms, allows the warmth to wash over him and that’s all the comfort he’s ever needed.  This is _different_.  Kamamoto’s heart pounds against his ribs – a huge contrast to Yata’s own heart pounding with excitement.

 

 _It’s okay_. Yata thinks – it sounds lame as hell even in _his_ ears.  He flinches at his own thoughts – _I’m sorry – I’m not good at this, but it’s okay.  I’ve taken down a category IV before, I promise you’ll be fine._

_You have_ … _but I haven’t…_ Kamamoto’s thoughts whimper at him – and layers of insecurity crash onto the both of them.  _I’m sorry!_ Kamamoto cries – Yata watches him metaphorically try to gather up all the self-deprecating thoughts and tie them up.

 

 _You can’t get rid of them._ Yata says suddenly.  _You can’t hide them away – it makes it worse.  It’s fine – just leave them here and focus on the Kaiju.  Once you get in the zone, nothing is going to matter, I promise you that._

A little sliver of confidence sneaks into Kamamoto’s thoughts and Yata sports a smug grin.  Kamamoto sucks in a deep breath. 

 

 _Okay_.  He says.  _Okay let’s do this._

Yata smiles under his breath – but Kamamoto’s confidence is stolen away by bubbles rising in the depths of the ocean.  “She’s here,” Yata says aloud for Totsuka.  “I see her coming.”

 

Kamamoto’s thoughts waver for a moment, but he hankers them down and solidarity ripples between them.  _Let’s do this_ he thinks at Yata. 

 

The beast rises from the water with a mighty roar.  Neon-green scales line her back and when she opens her mouth to growl, she spits radioactive-looking saliva at them.  Yata throws his hand to guard the glass that stands as their only protection.  The sun beats down on _Silverback_ and the monster; she blinks her beady eyes at them.  Her growl dies to a low rumble, and with half her body out of the water, she circles them carefully. 

 

Each step she takes starts a small tremor in the ground, and she’s maybe a few meters shorter than _Silverback_.  She whips her tail forward and grazes the tip of _Silverback’s_ shimmering metal as if assessing their strength.  Yata feels Kamamoto preparing to strike.  _Not yet._

Kamamoto waits obediently, and the creature dives backwards into the water.  Eerie silence swallows them for a few moments and Yata anxiously holds his breath. 

 

She strikes. 

 

The Kaiju lunges and snaps her jaw open with a deafening roar.  Yata bites his lip to hold in the grin – poor Kamamoto’s about to piss himself,  Yata shouldn’t enjoy this – but he can’t hold in the battle cry as he uses the nook of _Silverback’s_ elbow to slam the Kaiju’s snout down.  She shrieks and jerks backward after collapsing in the water.  And Yata _felt_ it – the crunch of bone – as if he’d slammed it with his own two hands. 

 

 _It’s bleeding!_ Kamamoto cheers.  A blue stream drips from the Kaiju’s nose in spurts and the drift soars with sick satisfaction.  The creature snarls at them and bares its teeth again – this time, she lunges for the left. 

 

Kamamoto gasps as she latches to his arm with her teeth.  The creature sinks its sharpened teeth deep into the metal and Kamamoto frantically waves his arm to shake it off.  Yata reaches over to grab _anything,_ but she evades him easily amongst Kamamoto’s panic.  _Come on Kamamoto, I can’t reach – you gotta do something!_ Yata snaps desperately. 

 

The Kaiju uses the tip of its tail to swing high enough and smash straight through the glass window.  Yata’s stomach plummets, and fear clutters the drift.  _Don’t panic!_ Yata warns frantically.  _Silverback is still functional, we’re fine.  Just shake her off, Kamamoto, come on!_  

 

She does not budge – she whips her tail again, and this time when she slices her tail towards the hangar that guards them – sharp shards of glass fly close enough to cut through Yata’s suit.  The crisp ocean air sinking into his skin is far more alarming than the trail of blood trickling down his elbow.  _Kamamoto, come on! I can’t reach!_

 

Kamamoto braces his leg into the sand and throws his arm back.  _Get the fuck off me!_  He whips his arm forward with all his strength and it sends the Kaiju _soaring_.  Yata laughs, loud and incredulous.  Kamamoto’s breathing heavily, chest heaving. 

 

 _That was fucking amazing!_ Pure joy erupts between them – just like that, their first Kaiju nearly defeated.  _We still have to find it, make sure it won’t come back and –_

 

Then, the drift _fails._

 

Yata whips his neck so fast a sharp sting courses down his muscles – Kamamoto’s lumped over, completely lifeless.   Yata’s throat plummets into his stomach.

 

 **“Kamamoto do you copy? Kamamoto? Rikio?!”** Totsuka screams into the com; Yata hears his fist slam on the counter. **“Yata listen to me.  You _need_ to pull back _immediately_.”  ** Yata tries to respond; but a blood-curdling scream erupts from his lungs instead.

 

 _Silverback’s_ weight crushes his shoulders.

 

Yata’s brain splits – _Silverback_ wraps around his thoughts – she jerks them to spread two halves of a robot and stretches his brain so thin Yata feels it _ripping_.   She crushes his skull; squeezes so tightly his brain mimics explosions across an empty drift.  Yata’s thoughts ravage it, slicing around to _escape_. 

 

He can’t understand his own thoughts anymore; he can’t understand _anything_.

 

His vision flashes from piercing darkness to scorching colors.  His stomach starts to lurch, bile climbs up his throat and Yata struggles to hold in his gags.  Yata’s limbs collapse; he drops to his knees.  He heaves, the acid burns coming up his throat, but Yata swallows it back down – he can’t puke against the glass mask that confines him to this hell.  Dark spots litter his vision, and a screeching ring fills up his ears – it stops abruptly and then all of the screaming sounds mush together and Yata _drowns_. 

 

**“Misaki! Misaki pull back NOW.”**

 

That’s Totsuka.  Yata can’t tell what he wants.  His brain throbs against his skull and Yata thinks the bone snaps.  His heart smashes against his rib cage and fear clings to every part of his body.  But yet – his thoughts fall away, a muddled, intangible mess Yata can’t understand anymore.

 

_Has it been five minutes now? Ten? Fifteen?_

 

Yata registers a shooting pain radiating from his head down. It hovers around him and crunches his whole body into a compressed ball.  Fire spreads all over; Yata’s skin prickles under the sizzling heat.  _Has it been twenty minutes now?_

 

Yata shreds pieces of the skin-tight suit containing him.  He rips away the glass mask and sucks in the fresh ocean air, but the drift doesn’t _leave._ The drift clings to him even when Yata’s scratching at his own face to stop the fire coursing around his veins.  He’s half out of the god-awful suit, but even with his exposed legs – he can’t feel the crisp ocean air. 

 

He only feels _fire._

 

Yata reaches out for the colored spots dotting his vison; his fingers tremble and he can’t touch them. They dance out of his reach and Yata hears the kiss of death mocking his pain.  His voice quivers in his throat – it comes out broken and whimpered, and Yata tastes the tears sliding down his cheeks.  “P-please stop.” He whines.  Somewhere, he hears the muffled sound of screaming – it sounds a lot like his name. 

 

And then, the Kaiju rises. 

 

She surges from the water with a deafening roar. Yata’s heart stutters in his chest.  Totsuka starts screaming so hard Yata hears the raw horror clinging to his voice.  Not words though, Yata can’t make out any words.  

 

Somewhere, under Yata’s boiling blood and pure terror, _Silverback_ cries.  _Silverback_ crying makes Yata cry.  Yata chokes on his own sobs until he coughs; blood leaves his lips with each cough.  _I’m going to die._

 

The Kaiju lunges at _Silverback’s_ knees; she rips away _Silverback’s_ hinges.  Yata’s knees flare as if teeth sunk into his own joints.  _Silverback_ collapses into the ocean, and the water that splashes back fills the con pad.  It’s not imagery anymore, not imagination – the freezing water and grainy sand surround Yata’s _human_ limbs. 

 

Water and sand slosh only up to his knees, but Yata’s muddled brain drowns within its depths as well.  But somewhere, _somewhere_ , he hears Totsuka’s panicked shouts.  And somewhere even deeper, Yata hears a name. 

 

 _Saruhiko._  

 

Yata grasps at the muffled sound of Totsuka calling to _Saru._ Saru’s screaming something – something Yata still can’t understand – but he’s _there_. 

 

Saru is _there._

 

Yata focuses every last drop of energy in his tattered body into forcing his Jaeger to rise.  The hinges – his _knees_ – burn as if actual fire licks at his injuries.  Heat _sears_ over his body, and it feels as if his bones claw against his skin to escape the blistering heat.  The monster swims beneath him; the tips of its horns peak out from the water, and it narrows its beady eyes on _Silverback_.    

 

Yata sinks his teeth into his lips, the metallic taste of blood fills his mouth.  He forces his screams to die in his throat and braces _Silverback_ against the ocean floor.  He shoves her – ankle deep – into the sand.  He mimics the action, his own bare toes sinking deep into all of the sand that washed into the con.  “I…I…Initiating…” Yata sucks in a breath, his lungs burn – he wonders if his ribs have ripped them open yet. 

 

**“What the FUCK are you doing?”**

That’s not Totsuka.

Yata grins, despite the searing pain covering his entire body.  Despite the threat of death looming over his shoulders, despite it _all –_ Yata grins.  “Initiating – “ Yata starts clearly, “Initiating cannons.” 

 

Saru screams something – but Yata can’t hear him over the buzz.  Yet somehow, Yata feels Saru’s heart cracking.  He _feels_ Saru clenching his fists together and tears stinging in his eyes; he _feels_ it all as if Saru’s patched next to him and not a limp Kamamoto. 

 

Yata holds his breath. 

 

The Kaiju springs from the water, teeth bared and dripping with radioactive, blue saliva.  It throws its limbs out with retracted claws ready to slice through _Silverback_ and rip her to shreds.  _“Get the fuck out of here, you stupid shit!”_

Yata releases a battle cry and aims _Silverback’s_ cannons straight into the creature’s mouth.  It grazes the paint with its claws before the cannon shoots. 

 

Yata slams his hands down on his ears – the _thing_ bellows and it screeches loud enough to stretch for miles.  But it collapses into the water – radioactive blue goo oozing out from its insides.  The force of the cannon throws Yata backwards.  He slams his head against the back-end of _Silverback_ hard enough that he feels the sticky wetness of blood trickling down the base of his neck. 

 

Kamamoto still lays beside him with no intention of waking up.  Fear crawls up his throat again, but Yata hushes it. 

 

 **“Yata, Yata bring her _back_.”  ** Totsuka begs.

 

There’s no hope for him.   Yata’s rushed breaths turn shallow, and with no Kaiju looming over his head, the pounding in his skull returns ten-fold.  “I…I can’t.”  Yata whimpers.

 

**_Yes, you fucking_ can _._   **

Yata’s heart stutters in his chest.  “S..Saru?” 

 

 ** _You’re going to listen to me, do you understand?_**  

 

“Y…Yes.” Yata hisses through his teeth.  His head spins; his body feels like lead on his shoulders.  His vision fuzzes, and he _really_ wants to collapse. He spares a glance at Kamamoto’s body and envy spikes in his throat. 

 

**_You’re going to bring the Jaeger back to base._ **

 

Yata whimpers, “I…I _can’t_.”  Tears burn at the corner of his eyes. 

 

**_You_ have _to._**

****

Yata cries, frustration pools in his stomach.  “I..I..fucking _can’t._ ”  He hiccups over his sobs.  “It hurts…I just…I want to…I want…”

 

**_Misaki, I’m not going to let you die._   **

Saru’s voice is _weird._ He speaks over the com – he has to.   But Yata senses the emotions embedded into his words.  Saru’s fingers tremble over the speaker button, beads of sweat curl down his forehead and even in front of Totsuka – the fear shines through his eyes.  He has one hand permanently curled over the com speaker – listening to each tiny, pained gasp Yata can’t hold.  The other hand is clenched into a fist, nails digging so deep into his palms he draws blood. 

 

Yata doesn’t understand. 

 

He doesn’t _understand_ why all of these emotions flood over him.  He doesn’t understand why he’s gazing out over the water, ready to make the ocean his deathbed, and Saru’s thoughts _still_ fiddle with his brain. 

 

**_Misaki? Are you there?!_ **

****

“Here.” He rasps. 

 

**_Okay, make the Jaeger stand._  **

Yata forces his human-self to stand – _Silverback_ does not.  “S..She’s not listening to me,” he snarls.  He hankers down and leans over his knees, just standing steals more stamina than he has. 

 

Saru pounds his fist against the com – Yata feels that, too.  **_Okay…okay just…find her._  **Saru’s panicking, Yata hears him blubber and he senses Saru’s fear in his bones.  **_I have an idea, but you have to find her._**

Yata slams his eyes shut and prods at _Silverback’s_ connection in the back of his mind.  She’s curled up in a ball, shivering and whimpering and when Yata’s mental image of himself takes a step closer – it’s not a girl at all.  It’s _him._

 

Yata watches himself, drenched to the bone in rain, dressed in his old middle school jacket with his hair matted against his forehead.  He’s sitting hunched over, with his face buried in his knees.  His body trembles and if Yata listens carefully, he hears dry sobs hacking up the poor kid’s throat.  It’s a strange setting – rain pours from the sky, yet bright red flames surround them.  Yata shivers from both the cold and heat at the same time. 

 

A flash of thunder ricochets across the image, his younger self buries his face deeper into his knees.  

 

“H…Hey.”  Yata tries. 

 

The boy jumps – thunder rumbles again, lightning crackling beside it – his face drops all color; he goes sickly pale and scoots up against the brick wall.  His lips tremble in fear and young Yata presses harder against the wall, begging for it to swallow him whole. 

 

“I’m not…I don’t wanna hurt you.”   Yata throws his arms up and squats down so he meets his younger self in the eye.  “I need you to help me.” 

 

“Y-You took him _away_.”  He glares at Yata with such venom in his eyes that guilt crawls up his throat. 

 

A voice answers from behind them.  _“It’s okay.”_

 

Yata tries to whirl around but loses his balance instead.  He quickly tries to scramble to his feet, but a warm hand drops on his head.  Long, slender fingers slide through his hair and suddenly, all of Yata’s pain escapes him.  Every bit of pain melts away and Yata watches the fire around the corners dwindle down to small embers. 

 

The rain stops pouring – but a light drizzle remains. 

 

Yata cranes his neck back, and Saru watches his younger self with a watery smile. The boy scrambles to his feet and rushes at the both of them, colliding – face first – into Saruhiko’s chest and drenching his clothes with tears.  He mumbles words Yata can’t comprehend through his sobs, but he clearly hears the boy _beg_.

 

“Don’t leave me,” he cries, fisting the back of Saru’s clothes, “Please don’t leave me.”

 

Yata doesn’t understand – he’s staring at Saru in his white lab coat.  His hair looks disheveled, and he’s definitely _not_ middle-school aged.  It’s the real, living, breathing Saru – it _must_ be.

 

Yata doesn’t understand; this shouldn’t be possible.  

 

“I won’t.” Saru says, Yata stares up at him – there’s a softness that Yata hasn’t seen in _years_.  He wraps his arms around younger Yata, and he _even_ leans over to press his chin to the top of his hair. 

 

On his deathbed, Yata’s jealous of _himself._

Saru looks directly into fully-grown Yata’s eyes.  He’s squeezing his younger self around the shoulders, holding the smaller boy as sobs hike up his throat and the tears soak through his new lab coat.  But Saru looks directly at _Yata._ “I’ll never leave you, _Misaki.”_

 

Yata reaches out for Saru before he can stop himself. 

 

He opens his eyes to an endless ocean and _Silverback’s_ left arm reaching for the sun. 

 

**_Misaki? Misaki do you copy? Yata Misaki do you copy?_ **

“I…copy.”  Yata flexes his fingers, the pain still burns – but it’s a dull ache centered to the middle of his chest, just centimeters above his heart. 

 

**_Can you…can you move her?_ **

Yata takes a shuddering breath and an experimental step forward – _Silverback_ follows.  “I can!” he screams.  Joy dances across his drift, _Silverback_ nudges him back as if apologizing.  

 

**_Bring her in as fast as you possibly can._ **

Each step knocks Yata’s stamina down a huge amount, by the time he reaches the hangar door he’s barely breathing, and his vision goes back to black spots rather than actual _sight._ Yet somehow, Yata clambers through the hanger with an absolutely trashed Jaeger _and_ an absolutely trashed human.  

He barely manages to dock _Silverback_ when her doors whoosh open and a swarm of people rush for him.

Yata prepares to succumb to the pull of darkness.  He vaguely feels paramedics yanking off the remnants of his suit, pulling off the wires and he collapses to his knees.  He can’t hear anything; the ringing in his ear doubles; it makes him wonder if perhaps his connection with _Silverback_ breathed life into his veins.  Without her, Yata can’t see or hear anything.

 

Someone shoves past the paramedics.  Muffled shouts fill his ears, something about a medical emergency, someone screaming to let go.  So many words he can’t understand.

 

Someone hoists him up by his armpits.  Yata’s crushed against something warm – it squeezes him back with a fervor he hasn’t felt for two years. 

 

Something wet falls on his hair and a pair of strong arms squeeze him tighter.  Yata would never forget the warmth of Saru’s chest.

 

_“Stupid Saruhiko – are you crawling back to the man who makes you cry?”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Totsuka finds Saruhiko in the base’s hospital ward, clutching Misaki’s hand wearing a haggard look on his face. 

 

“You know,” Totsuka pauses to pull over the extra chair – Saruhiko glares daggers into his soul,  “He’ll wake up pretty soon – it’s actually a miracle.”

 

Saruhiko doesn’t speak, he squeezes Misaki’s hand just a little bit tighter.  His heart still pounds against his chest; all the life drained out of him.  He doesn’t have the energy to build his walls – Totsuka can deduce whatever the fuck he wants; Saruhiko doesn’t _care_.  Totsuka doesn’t reach out to touch him, doesn’t pat him on the back or do anything remotely friendly.  “What you did was a miracle too, you know.” 

 

“I don’t know how I did it and I’m not going to tell you.”  Saruhiko _hates_ the quiver in his voice, he hates the underlying hoarseness, but he _hates_ the soft gaze Totsuka wears most of all.

 

 “I stopped Mikoto from coming.” 

 

The muscles in his shoulders tense.  “I don’t hate him.” He whispers. 

 

“But you hate the way Yata-kun looks at him.” 

 

Saruhiko’s breath catches in his throat, he furrows his eyebrows, but Totsuka’s kind demeanor doesn’t change.  He leans over to smooth the blankets covering Yata’s still body as he continues.  “Yata is pretty stupid.”  Totsuka chuckles under his breath, “That’s why he has trouble understanding many things – I was very happy you two fit together.  It was sad that you had to move on.” 

 

“That I betrayed him, you mean.” Saruhiko’s heart whines, the dull ache he’s suppressed for the past two years starts back up.  It gnaws at the back of his mind, and looking into Yata’s peaceful, sleeping face doesn’t make it much better. 

 

“Yata is pretty stupid.” Totsuka laughs, “But you are too.” 

 

Saruhiko allows the silence to settle.  The hospital room smells sterile - it reminds Saruhiko a lot of the labs back in Germany.  The people he met slotted so well together there wasn’t a place for him – but they tried _so_ hard to fit him in.  Everyone does that, pull him into groups he never gives a fuck about.  Saruhiko’s _terrible_ at making friends, he never bothered to try.  

 

He only ever made one. 

 

“He’s not stupid.” He whispers.  Saruhiko traces the soft lines in Yata’s palm and reaches over to push the hair out of his eyes.  “He’s energetic and loud, and he does a lot of stuff without thinking – but he’s not stupid.” 

 

Totsuka smiles softer.  “He’s not anything amazing either – neither are you.” 

 

Saruhiko narrows his eyes.  “What’s your point?”

 

“You don’t need him.  He doesn’t need you, either.  But you complete each other in a way that’s breathtaking to watch.  I can only imagine how it feels to be in a bond like that.”  Totsuka says.

 

“That’s still not your point, though.”

 

Totsuka grins.  “No, it’s not.”  He stretches his arms out and releases a yawn, “I’m trying to say that you don’t have to need someone to _want_ them in your life.” 

 

“You can live without them, though.” Saruhiko hisses. 

 

“Did you enjoy it?” Totsuka raises an eyebrow.  “Living without Misaki?” 

 

“Don’t call him that!”  The words erupt from Saruhiko like a thunderous roar.  He snaps his head at Totsuka, and pure rage bubbles in his eyes.  His heart growls in his chest as if snarling – as if agreeing, _no one_ can call him that.

 

If Totsuka appears shocked by the outburst – he doesn’t show it.  “Right, he doesn’t like it – that’s why?”

 

Saruhiko struggles to re-build his masks.  All of his well-hidden puzzle pieces fall into Totsuka’s hand to solve.  “Or is it because _you_ don’t like it – Saruhiko-kun?” 

 

“It’s none of your damn business.” He spits back. 

 

“You haven’t let go of his hand since they brought him here.” Totsuka observes.

 

“You’re pissing me off.” Saruhiko snarls.  “You should go.”

 

“Why shouldn’t you?’ Totsuka shoots back.  Saruhiko _hates_ his soft voice the most.  Totsuka knows how to push all the right buttons, how to rip his soul open and prod at him like the twisted man he _truly_ is.  Totsuka sees him – he _truly ­_ sees him – and yet he still yearns to build Saruhiko back into their lives.  “Why do you have any more right to be here than I do?” 

 

“Just… _go._ ” Saruhiko snarls through gritted teeth. 

 

“I will.”  Totsuka gently pushes the extra chair back against the white-washed walls and heads towards the exit.  “If no one but you has a right to his first name – you should think about what that means.” 

 

Totsuka leaves Saruhiko in a hollow room.  As the moon rises, Saruhiko catches a falling star.

 

_“Wishes don’t come true off stars, idiot. Just tell me what you want – and we’ll find a way to get it.”_

_Misaki smiles at him and Saruhiko gets lost in his shimmering eyes.  “I don’t really want anything, I guess…I think I finally have it all.”_

Saruhiko clasps his hands together and slams his eyes shut.  _“Please wake up.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When he wakes up, Yata’s head pounds so hard against his skull that he clenches his eyes together and moans. 

 

He pushes himself to sit; but his arms crumple and he collapses again.  Gingerly, he rubs his hazy eyes; lifting his arm feels like lead flowing through his veins instead of his blood.  He boosts himself on an elbow; someone’s holding his hand. 

 

Yata really thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. 

 

Fushimi Saruhiko lies on Yata’s numbed thighs while clasping his hand.  Saru’s hand feels sticky with sweat – a teller of just how long he’s been there and Yata coughs over a dry lump forming in his throat. 

 

Saru – always the light sleeper – snaps his eyes open. 

 

“H-Hello.” Yata rasps. 

 

Yata expects Saru to snatch his hand away, snap something snooty and stomp out of the hospital ward. 

 

He doesn’t. 

 

Saru quietly sifts around the mountain of get well cards and three atrociously colored flower vases to grab a water pitcher.  He fills a cup about halfway in pure silence – then he _finally_ looks.  

 

Yata swears tearstains have dried under Saru’s eyes; they’re puffy and bloodshot, too.  Half of his hair – the side that slept soundly nuzzled against Yata – sits flat against his skull with the other half askew in a million directions.   He blinks slowly, pressing the cup against Yata’s palms. 

 

“Can you hold it?”

 

Yata’s grips the cup firmly with two hands, but when he lifts it – his hands shake, and a bit of the water sloshes over the rim.  Saru thrusts his hand forward to catch the water before it sinks into Yata’s blankets.  “Sorry.” Yata whispers. 

 

Saru doesn’t answer.  He takes the glass and cups it into his own hands, gently holding it near Yata’s lips.   Yata fumbles and places his own shaky hands around Saru’s – Yata’s hands still quiver, but he takes a few experimental sips.  He doesn’t realize how _dry_ his mouth is and drains the whole thing. 

 

Saru – watching Yata the whole time – dutifully refills the cup and allows Yata to drain it again. 

 

Yata declines a third cup, and Saru softly places it back into the mountain of gifts.  The silence shrouds over them, and Saru sits with his hands folded neatly in his lap, staring at the stark white walls and wearing no expression on his face.  Yata hunts for words, for _something_ to break the thickening silence.  Saru speaks first.

 

“Are you gonna do it again?” He says. 

 

Yata’s stomach drops a little bit – he pushes on his elbows to sit up.  Saru jumps and wraps an arm around the small of his back and gently guides Yata up.  For a moment, Yata breathes in a mixture of vanilla and sandalwood.  He yearns to close his eyes and lean closer until he bumps against Saru’s chest and falls asleep like that.  He doesn’t do that – Saru lets him go and props pillows in the place of his arm.  “Do what?” 

 

Yata watches Saru grind his hands into the fabric of his pants.  It’s the equivalent of speaking through clenched teeth.  “Pilot.”

 

Yata swallows.  “Yeah.” 

 

“Are you fucking _serious?”_  Saru snaps his neck up; he glares straight into Yata’s eyes.  It reminds Yata of middle school Saru who hadn’t perfected the art of guarding himself.  Rage simmers in his eyes, and his nostrils flare up and it means he’s fucking _pissed_. 

 

They hooked him to a heart monitor – Yata learns this when it starts beeping incessantly, mimicking his spiking heart rate, and Saru glances at the machine before masking over his emotions _again_.

 

 _Fuck it_.

 

Yata shoves his hand into his hospital gown and rips the patches clean from his skin.  The monitor screeches to a halt and Saru’s rage pools back into his eyes. “Misaki what the actual fuck are you doing right now?!”  He rushes to stand, and his chair crashes behind him. 

 

Yata ignores him – his fingers curl around the IV line dug deep into his hand and _finally_ Saru grabs both of his wrists.  Yata glares up at him with challenge rooted in his eyes – he’s had _enough_.   So many things dance across Saru’s eyes – anger, horror, fear – but the thing Yata zeroes in on are the shaking fingers that dig into the flesh of his wrists.  “Are you fucking _crazy_?” Saru snarls.

 

“I’m fine.” Yata says coolly. 

 

He really shouldn’t get so much joy out of Saru’s _fuming_ face – but he’ll take it.  “I’m going to pilot, and I’m _fine_.” Yata snaps.  He almost rips his arms from Saru’s grasp, and almost demands that Saru has _no_ business in here – but he can’t do it.  Rage bubbles under his skin; it courses in his veins but even so – he _can’t_ hurt him. 

 

“You almost _died_.”  Saru hisses. 

 

“But I didn’t,” Yata smirks.  And god, the flipped roles feel _so_ good.

 

Saru drops his hands – he looks at the ground instead of Yata and for a moment, Yata thinks he’s going to storm out – leave him, _again_ , to cry himself to sleep on a hospital bed.  Yata starts to speak, but his words morph into a startled yelp when Saru slams his hands down on Yata’s shoulders.  He leans in until Saru’s breath ghosts over the tip of his nose and the only thing he sees are Saru’s blazing brown eyes.  “Do you think this is some kind of _game_?” Saru hisses. 

 

Yata’s heart races, his thoughts jumble together and it’s hard to form coherent sentences, but he manages, somehow.  “Do _you_?” He snaps back, he shoves Saru’s chest with all the force his frail body can manage – it doesn’t do much, but Saru releases his hold and moves back anyways. 

 

“You weren’t there.” Saru says softly.  He doesn’t look at Yata, but out at the soft drizzle of rain fogging up the window.  “You wouldn’t understand.”

 

“Tell me.” Yata whispers.  “Tell me what I need to understand.”

 

“They weren’t going to save you.”  Yata watches Saru’s eyes count the droplets sliding down the stained glass – he also watches Saru stroke the knife hidden in his right sleeve with trembling fingers.  “They – they said – “ Saru actually shivers, a sob climbing up his throat.  “You had no chance – no one can drift alone – and anyone we could have gotten out to you wouldn’t have made it in time.  They were going to leave you to _die.”_ Saru spits out the words as if they burn leaving his lips. 

 

“I’m not dead though.”  Yata says softly.  “I made it back – _you ­_ brought me back.”

 

“That’s not – “

 

Kamamoto interrupts Saru’s half-scream.  He gently nudges the door open, poking his head through the cracks.  “Y-Yata-san? Are you awake?”

 

_“Get out.”_

 

Yata blinks – Saru’s hands clench into fists.  His knuckles turn white and his fingers inch back to snatch a knife in an all too familiar movement.  “Saru, _stop_!” 

 

Yata tries to stumble forward but his stomach lurches.  He ends up gasping for breath and clutching his abdomen and while his head still spins – Saru’s palm pushes his chest back down.  Saru keeps it there – splayed out on top of Yata’s racing heart.  Amidst catching his breath, Yata realizes, _Ah, I haven’t called him by that name in a while._

 

“Don’t strain yourself, you _idiot!”_  He yells. 

 

Kamamoto’s frozen in the doorway.  “U-Um…maybe I can come back when you’re alone…” he whispers. 

 

Yata sighs, running angry fingers through his hair. “Yea you –“

 

“He won’t be _alone,_ so don’t come back.” Saru spits. 

 

“He’s my partner.” Kamamoto blinks. 

 

“Not anymore – you’ve proven you’re not _worthy_.” Saru snaps.

 

Yata’s jaw drops; he stares at Saru with a gaping mouth.  Kamamoto flinches back slightly but narrows his eyes as he speaks  “Who are you to judge that?”

 

“His ninety-nine percent _match_.” Saru hisses. 

 

Kamamoto turns at least five different shades of pinks.  “You’re…Fushimi…”.

 

Saru’s grin is lopsided, and Yata recognizes the creepy drawl with which he speaks.  “Heard of me, have you?  Then you outta know, this isn’t your place.  So you should – “

 

 _“Stop.”_ Yata demands with gritted teeth.  “Fucking _stop_.”  He shoves Saru’s hands off of him and forces himself to sit up.  Saru snarls and moves to shove him back down, but Yata catches him by the wrist.  “I’m sitting _right here._ ” He growls, “You have _no_ right to make any of my decisions for me – Kamamoto is _my_ partner, and I want to hear what he has to say.”

 

“He nearly _killed_ you!” Saru screams, he wrenches his hand back.  His lips quiver into a frown, he furrows his eyebrows together and his fingers twitch enough that Yata swears he’s about to choke him.  “You almost _died_!”

 

“So did _he!”_  Yata screams back.  “It was his first time, it’s not his fault!”

 

“I…I disagree…” Kamamoto looks down at his toes. 

 

Saru snorts, “Finally, we seem to agree on something.”

 

“Kamamoto,” Yata growls, running his hands down his face, “It was _not_ your fault.” 

 

“I think it _was_!” Kamamoto whines, “I lied…” he whimpers, “I couldn’t ever really the hold drift too well, it always felt like she kept trying to push me out.  But I just wanted to pilot really, _really_ badly so I didn’t say anything – I thought it was normal.” 

 

Yata frustratingly screams, “It _is_ normal!”  

 

At the same time, Saru snarls, “It’s _not_ normal!”

 

Yata growls, he smacks both his hands to his face, “It fucking _is!”_ he snaps, “No one can learn to control a Jaeger that quickly – Kamamoto you did _fine!”_

 

“Yata-san…” Kamamoto blinks tears away rapidly, “Thank you, but maybe we outta discuss this later, in private…”

 

“You wanna _privately_ talk about how you nearly killed him?” Saru snarls, he almost takes two steps towards Kamamoto but Yata leans forward and tugs him back by the sleeve.

 

“Stop harassing him, it’s not his fault!”

 

“You don’t understand _anything!”_ Saru lets out a frustrated growl and tugs on his hair. “How can you be so goddamn _stupid?_ ”

 

“You won’t tell me anything!” Yata yells back. 

 

“I um…” Kamamoto falters, “I think I’ll come back later, after all.” 

 

“Wait, Kamamoto, it’s – “ Yata throws out a hand to stop him, but Kamamoto stumbles out the doorway and it slams shut behind him.  “Great, you scared off my drift partner, are you happy now? Happy to ruin everything?”

 

“ _I_ ruined everything?” Saru barks out a bitter laugh.  “Wow, and here I thought I _saved_ your stupid life.” 

 

“If it’s so stupid, then maybe you should have let me _die.”_

Saru smacks him.

 

He smacks him straight across the cheek hard enough that it _stings_.  Yata gingerly rubs at the spot – it already feels sore and starts to redden.  He knits his eyebrows together, hand still cradling his cheek, and opens his mouth to yell – but the words die on his tongue. 

 

Saru’s hand trembles, still hanging midair.   He’s staring straight at the ground, so his bangs fall over his eyes, but Yata catches fat tears dripping down his cheeks.  They land on the cotton blanket covering his legs, and Saru’s lips quiver when he speaks.  “You don’t understand. You – really – you really _might_ have. I almost lost you.”  Saru punctuates his words with a harsh sob that climbs up his throat.

 

“I didn’t, though. How did you even save me?”  Yata asks. 

 

Saru scrambles to wipe away the tears and blinks at him.  “You didn’t notice?”

 

“Notice what?” Yata doesn’t like the way Saru’s eyes widen.

 

“Misaki.  We drifted.”

 

“We…wait _what?”_  Yata scrambles to sit up straighter, his stomach lurches, and his head spins; Saru almost lunges to push him back again, but Yata stops him and forms words around the cough climbing back up his throat. “That’s not possible.” 

 

“I think…” Saru pushes up his glasses, but he fiddles with his fingers and it means he’s nervous.  “I think a piece of me is left in her.”  Saru swallows down a lump in his throat, he can’t even look Yata in the eyes.  “And when…” he curls his hands into fists, anger rising in his throat and that’s how Yata _knows_ Saru really was affected.  “When they said you were probably going to die, I felt her.  She was crying – I think she was scared for you.” 

 

“That’s…that’s not…even if it were a ghost drift, it can’t be _that_ strong.” Yata shakes his head violently.  “And she’s a _Jaeger_ , she can’t _actually_ have any consciousness – that’s physically _impossible_.” 

 

Saru glares at him, “Do you really believe that?” 

 

Yata meets his gaze. “No.” he mumbles.

 

“Did you feel me? You felt _terrified_. And it terrified _me,_ so it had to be a drift, I definitely felt you.”  Saru stresses.

 

“I saw you.” Yata says quietly, “And myself – when I was in middle school – but you were you.” 

 

Saru looks astonished, “What do you mean?”

 

“I’ve seen myself before,” Yata shifts to gaze out the window, the rain stopped but the droplets still lazily slide down the glass.  “A few times with Kamamoto – I had to find my connection, it would look like me.”  Yata nervously swallows the lump forming in his throat.  “And I would beg for you, ask where you were, and I’d hate my actual self for refusing to bring you back.  But _Silverback_ would let him in, after a lot of begging on my part.” 

 

Saru hisses through his teeth. “Misaki – “

 

Yata cuts him off.  “But this time – it was me in middle school.  And that version of me was _terrified._ ”  Yata shudders – he almost feels the fire licking around him again – “He _hated_ me.  He thought I took you away.  I don’t think that was _Silverback_ – she’s literally a giant robot.”  Yata takes a deep breath.  “I think it’s me, at least, a part of me that wakes up when I’m in her.”  

 

“You said I was there.” Saru whispers.

 

“You calmed the younger me down, after that.” Yata continues.  “I guess that’s what you mean when you say we drifted – you came to us – and I…” Yata’s cheeks heat up and he can’t look at Saru anymore, “I cried into you – the younger me, I mean.  And then – I was back in _Silverback,_ and I could move again.” 

 

It crashes on Yata now, and he sucks in a breath.  “But I only moved the left side.” 

 

Saru stares into his soul.  “And I moved the right.”  Saru swallows, “That younger version of yourself – I don’t think that has anything to do with you.”

 

Yata swallows thickly.  “What do you mean?”

 

“That’s the part of me she remembers.” 

 

Yata’s eyes widen, but before he can speak someone storms through the door – a lower rank cadet.  

 

“Anna is calling a meeting.  It’s an emergency.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i considered splitting this up - its a realllll long chapter, but i figured that would be downright cruel.
> 
> hope you guys enjoy this one!


	6. vi

_Misaki’s head hangs over the railing – his orange hair flopping around as he swings his arms.  “Hey Saru – do you think it would be cool?_

_Saru stops clacking away on his keyboard – he smiles internally at Misaki’s lopsided expression with all of the blood rushing to his face.  “What would?_

_Misaki shimmies up and flips over to rest his head on his elbows.  “Piloting.  Like those guys we met a few days ago,”_

_Saru ponders over that – the thought of controlling a giant mech.  At first he rolls his eyes, loses interest – it sounds like some stupid hero thing Misaki would like in a video game.  But he pauses – he pictures it – strapped in with his hand enclosed in Misaki’s.  Drifting with Misaki, so they’re both completely enveloped in each other’s presence.  It sends giddy shivers up his spine and Saru swallows._

_“Yea.” He says, “It would probably be pretty cool.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yata limps into the conference room – his legs still struggle to hold his own weight. 

 

Saru walks with one arm wrapped tightly around his waist; Yata’s pressed snug against his side so that all of the warmth of Saru’s body bleeds onto him.   They walk into a room full of _really_ important people just like that.   Like the past two years never happened; Saru pulls out a chair for him, gingerly lowers him into it, and they sit like that too, like nothing _ever_ happened.  Saru keeps one hand plastered against Yata’s thigh, kneading his knuckles against his flesh in a way that says _I’m worried about you_.

 

Needless to say, Yata is _very_ confused.   

 

“Misaki, Saruhiko.”  Anna greets them with a gentle smile and a soft nod of the head. 

 

Saru squeezes; Yata mumbles for the both of them.  “U-Um…hi.” 

 

Kusanagi takes a long drag from his cigarette; he allows the smoke to curl over his face and twirls it around his fingers and then clears his throat.  “So, now that we’re all here – let’s begin.” 

 

Anna hums softly.  Mikoto holds out a hand and wears a soft smile; Anna takes it and uses it to balance herself as she stands on top of velvet-cushioned chairs.  Saru’s gentle hand on his thigh makes Yata’s cheeks turn bright red – Saru never liked the Victorian décor of Anna’s quarters.  The mahogany of the table, the walls carpeted with velvet-silk – it all seems too _regal_.  Yata hates it, too, but Saru _really_ hated it. 

 

He still does – judging by the way he nervously digs his fingers into Yata’s _thigh._  It’s not sensual at all – it’s just – weird.  They went from slamming each other with words straight back to what they _had_ in a matter of twenty minutes. 

 

So, yea, this is really fucking _weird._

 

Anna tosses a handful of marbles on the table.  They settle into the many nooks for a brief moment, but when Anna closes her eyes – the marbles start to spin.  The tension in the room almost seems thick enough to cut with one of Saru’s knives.  Yata squirms in his seat, and _again_ , Saru leans the slightest bit closer and gives his thigh a reassuring squeeze. 

 

Yata doesn’t trust himself enough to look him in the eye. 

 

Anna’s marbles roll in circles over a map until her breath hitches and they come to an abrupt stop.  

 

They settle together as two separate clusters.  Anna pouts softly; she spares a sad glance at Totsuka, “Tatara.” 

 

“It lines up for a double event,” Totsuka sighs.

 

“A _what?!”_  Yata gasps, he jumps to his feet and his chair crashes behind him.  He almost slams his fists on the table – stopping last minute to preserve Anna’s marbles, “hold on…someone backtrack a little.”

 

Totsuka doesn’t look at him – but at Saru.  His lips weave into a thin, stoic line. 

 

Saru presses on Yata’s chest, softly guiding him back.  He holds his palm there; his warmth bleeds through his clothes and Yata _swears_ his heart is going to burst.  He almost forgets about the Kaiju looming over their heads – _almost._  “You _knew_?” he snaps; he shoves Saru’s hands off of him.    

 

“I had…a hunch.”  Saru admits.  He glances down at his slender fingers with the lightest of frowns before neatly folding his hands on his lap.  “We’ve predicted a huge rupture of seismic activity in a few weeks.” 

 

Anna nuzzles against Mikoto, softly lifting his hands and dropping it on top of her head.  Mikoto’s lips twitch slightly; he glides his fingers through her soft hair and he sighs. “So, we’ve got to take down a pair, soon.”

 

Reisi frowns, “That’s not something to look forward to.” 

 

Mikoto leans back on his chair and cocks one eye open, “Can’t take down a pair of category II’s? Are you that old, already, Munakata?”  His smirk reeks of challenge. 

 

“Mikoto.” Anna tugs lightly on his jacket, frown splayed on her lips. 

 

Mikoto chuckles through his teeth and lightly pats her head, but Anna insistently tugs on him still. 

 

“They’re a higher category than that, eh Anna?”  Kusanagi allows another stream of smoke to swirl around them. 

 

“Calculations suggest at the very least, a pair of III’s – however more than likely at least one will be a V,”  Totsuka whispers. 

 

Yata hisses under his breath – they don’t touch anymore, but Saru’s body goes rigid beside him.  “That’s –“  Saru hooks a hand beneath his elbow and just rubs at his bare skin; a pleasant warmth seeps over Yata’s body and he’s so fucking _confused_ – but it’s the safest he’s felt in two years.  Everyone watches him – Saru doesn’t stop.  “– crazy.” He mumbles.

 

“The smaller base in Osaka has a good Jaeger team I can request,” Munakata pushes up his glasses.  “However, I hear they’re just as swamped at us; it’s not looking good for the world these days.”

 

Mikoto leans back on his chair, stretching out his arms and releasing a hefty yawn.  “It’s nothing we can’t handle,” he smirks at Reisi who frowns back at him in response.  Yata taps his fingers lightly against his thighs; he wonders how strong their ghost drift is – if what Saru did is even _normal_. 

 

“That pegs the question though – how do we stop this?” Kusanagi sighs.  “Clearly the Jaeger method isn’t going to work forever – especially with a limited number of teams, and a limited number of giant robots.”

 

Anna frowns; she curls her hands into her dress. “Trouble is coming,” she whispers. 

 

Yata shudders; _Anna_ claiming they’re in trouble sends shivers down their back.  Saru’s hand gingerly makes its way to rest near his thigh again.  And somewhere in that – Yata feels it.  “Do you have something to say? 

 

Saru freezes beside him, he whips his head back at Yata and for the _briefest_ moment he wears an incredulous look - but not in a bad way. For just a second Yata sees raw happiness in his eyes, and he hasn’t seen that in a _long_ time. 

 

“Saruhiko.” Anna presses.

 

“I…” Saru fidgets with his thumbs.  “…may have an idea.” 

 

Yata watches Saru’s fingers fidget beneath the table from the corner of his eye.  “Go ahead, then,” Kusanagi folds his hands over the table.

 

“When I was in – “ Saru pauses to glance at Yata, “– Germany, they had me work on drifting with other species.” 

 

“What the fu – “Yata exclaims - Kusanagi kicks him sharply; he smiles sweetly at Saru and folds his hands underneath his chin after miming a motion to continue.  Yata grumbles under his breath.

 

“The idea was to use some of the world’s most dangerous animals that would be more capable of taking down a Kaiju,” Saru sighs, “It didn’t work out then, but – “

 

“You think you could do it _here_?”  Totsuka arches an eyebrow and wears an astonished look.  “I’ve heard of the head scientists over there – they’ve done some remarkable things. If they couldn’t do it – “ 

 

“They weren’t that great.” Saru furrows his eyebrows.  Yata almost laughs, it reminds him of their middle school days – of Saru’s stoic face breaking _only_ when Yata said something so remarkably stupid that it gauged a reaction.  He remembers rolling around on the grass, laughing so hard until Saru pinned him down, but he couldn’t stop laughing because Saru’s face looked so –

 

“So, what do you propose?” 

 

Reisi pulls Yata from his thoughts – he even jumps slightly and Saru spares him a quick glance; he watches Yata as he speaks.  “I think that trying to drift with animals is incredibly stupid,” Saru says flatly.  “They’re too unpredictable, don’t have a similar mental capacity to humans, and even if it _were_ possible – there would be no way to control them.  It would be a huge mess.” 

 

Kusanagi smirks under his breath, “So you sabotaged them – you sly monkey?”

 

“Don’t call him that.”  Yata growls. 

 

Saru sucks in a harsh breath behind him.  Kusanagi’s eyes widen – his hands drop from his chin and Yata senses the burning pressure of the room’s eyes on _him_.  Yata blinks – he surprised himself.  It’s suffocating – everyone’s watching him, and he quickly lowers his gaze – his cheeks feel much warmer.  “I-I mean – “

 

“And if I did?”  Saru glares at Kusanagi.  “Does that matter?”

 

“Izumo.”  Mikoto warns. 

 

Kusanagi chuckles loosely and throws up his hands in surrender, “Sorry, sorry, please – continue.” 

 

Saru smirks, “A team separate from that researched preserved Kaiju brains.” 

 

Yata hears Totsuka hiss under his breath.  Judging by the look of pure horror that hikes up his face – Totsuka knows _very_ well where this is going.  “What are you implying right now?” He says – Yata’s never seen Totsuka scared – but right now, Totsuka has his fingernails wedged into that gorgeous, mahogany wood. 

 

“The Kaiju brain isn’t that different than a human brain – it’s on a much larger scale – but we could still drift.”  Saru says.

 

“That’s – “ Totsuka almost stands from his seat. 

 

“Not a bad idea,” Reisi concludes – earning a glare, “if you could do it.” 

 

Saru smirks and readjusts his glasses, “I wouldn’t offer it if I couldn’t.” 

 

Yata hisses under his breath, “You can actually drift with a Kaiju?”

 

Saru rolls his eyes, “Stupid as ever – Misaki – _I_ can’t.  But a pair of talented drifters? That’s possible.” 

 

Totsuka narrows his eyes, “How?”

 

“If we could build a wireless Pons interface – definitely something within our means – there’s not much to it.”  Saru pauses to take a breath, “Hook up a Kaiju brain to a Pons – already hooked to two others – and what do you call that?”

 

“An impossible drift,” Totsuka snarls.  “How the hell are you gonna make a Pons _big_ enough to hook to a Kaiju brain?”  Totsuka demands.  “Moreover – if you _do_ – how are you gonna hook that up without dying?” 

 

Yata blinks, “Stab it in there?” 

 

Saru already wears a look of pure disgust – but it quickly morphs into astonishment, “That…. that might work.” 

 

Kusanagi laughs, “Leave it to Yata-chan.” 

 

“So, let me try to understand,” Totsuka grits his teeth, “You essentially want to attach something sharp enough to pierce a Kaiju brain to the end of a wireless Pons, stab it into said Kaiju brain, and drift with a fucking _Kaiju?_ ” 

 

Saru takes a deep breath, “Yes. That is exactly what I mean.” 

 

“That’s _insane_ ,”  Totsuka snaps.  “You’re going to get those drifters _killed_.” 

 

“Tatara,”  Anna smiles softly and raises a hand, “you care a lot about your friends – you have good reason to be scared.  I think that this is a good idea – I think it’s going to work.” 

 

Totsuka slumps, “You don’t know if you’ll even get anything – it could all be in vain.” 

 

“I…” Yata swallows.  “Sorry to interrupt – this is not my place – but I think it will give us _something,”_ Yata ignores Saru’s incredulous eyes staring into him, “I mean – how can it give us nothing? Even something small – we’ll get a memory, we’ll get something – and that’s a hell of a lot more than we have right now, so.” 

 

“Yata is right,” Mikoto grins at him, “we don’t have anything to lose if we try – we have a lot more if we don’t.  These monsters are getting worse – we have to do _something_ to make it stop altogether.”

 

“We’ll have to be extremely careful,” Totsuka whispers. “The effects of drifting with a Kaiju brain – no one’s done that before – no one _knows_ what that’s going to be like.”

 

Mikoto huffs, “Do you think that’s something we can’t handle?”

 

Totsuka smiles at him and turns to Saru with a harder look, “A wireless Pons interface I can get you within a few days – if you really think that this is going to work – but we’re going to need to figure out exactly how this thing is going to work based on the sheer idea of _stabbing_ it into a Kaiju brain.” 

 

Saru smirks, “I hope you have a lot of lab rats.”

 

Yata shivers.  “You’re fucking creepy,” he mumbles.

 

“Any who,” Totsuka grins at Yata, “I understand you need a live brain to drift – but it would also be beneficial to secure a brain for research itself.” 

 

Yata shivers again – stealing a Kaiju brain?  Scientists are fucking _weird._

 

“Besides all of that –“ Kusanagi waves his arms, “Right now we have one functional Jaeger team,” he shoots Mikoto a look.  “We _can_ have Silverback up and running soon – but…does she have pilots?” 

 

Yata blinks. 

 

“Misaki,” Anna whispers.  “Will you help Mikoto?” 

 

Yata’s heart freezes – his head spins at the sudden rush and it makes him nauseous.  He curls his hands against his lap and starts to count the intricate lines carved into the table.  He’s still drawn to _Silverback_ , despite everything – he’s not _scared_ , but so many questions swirl in Yata’s mind and he doesn’t know.  Will Kamamoto come back?  Will he have to spar with cadets all over again?  Will _Silverback_ accept someone else?

 

He remembers Kamamoto’s tear-streaked face poking through the doorway.  _I lied – I never really understood her at all._     

 

Yata swallows.  He allowed that.  _Silverback_ clawed and begged him, but he dampened every emotion she spit up at him and forced her to accept someone – all because of his own selfish needs. 

 

So, in the end, Yata Misaki finds himself at the same standstill from two years ago, “I don’t have – “

 

“We’ll do it.” 

 

Yata’s heart stutters.  His mouth dries up and with a stammering heart, he chances a look at Saru.  Yata wears his heart on his sleeve – he accepts that – his emotions play on his face like a performance, one after the other like a jumbled mess.  Sometimes Yata would fall asleep at night, curled into a pillow stained with tears and wonder if that’s why Saru left – if he stole away all the magic since he wore them so openly.  It must have made moments like this so much less _beautiful._

Saru’s smiling at him – a real, _genuine_ smile.  His eyes crinkle up; he gazes straight at Yata and Yata sees Saru’s soul swimming in his eyes.  He sees happiness, he sees _belonging,_ he sees all the things he thought he lost two years ago and Yata can’t react. 

 

For once in their messed-up lives, Saruhiko wears all of the emotion Yata can’t. 

 

“Thank you,”  Anna smooths out the folds of her dress and glances at the two of them with a soft smile,” for being smart.” 

 

Yata almost chokes on his own spit; he even watches Kusanagi hide a grin with his palm before speaking,  “In that case, we’ll want to get you boys situated again before the double.”

 

Saru shudders beside him – and suddenly static courses through Yata’s veins.  _Silverback_ will rise again – with both of her masters tucked neatly against her con-pad.  Yata’s vision blurs – he’s still recovering – but for the briefest second, he catches the pull of the ocean sneaking into his mind – the ocean’s pull, and _Saru_ stationed next to him. 

 

But.

 

A deep, gnawing, emotion settles into the pit of his stomach.  _Maybe I didn’t want to pilot_.  Yata’s stomach lurches – that was a lie – it _was_.  But Yata curls around his stomach, a small frown etching on his face.  No one sees it – they keep talking – but Saru brushes his fingers lightly against Yata’s elbows.  It’s a motion that says _lean on me._

 

Yata doesn’t. 

 

He shifts away – lightly – it effectively shuts Saru out.  He pulls his fingers back as if burned, but he doesn’t move the lingering gaze that boars into him.  Yata’s mind is swirling.  “What do you say, Yata?” 

 

Yata jumps – Totsuka frowns – “Have you been listening?”

 

Yata glowers – he’s just so _tired_ , “Not really – I’m not…I’m not really feeling well,” 

 

Saru starts to say something – Reisi cuts him off, “This shouldn’t take much longer – I’m sure you can manage.” 

 

Yata sneers at him – he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest.  He’s really _not_ feeling well – but Reisi is right, he can survive a few more minutes.  His head pounds against his skull and heat flashes start to crawl up his body so Yata allows his eyes to fall shut. 

 

His head still throbs against his skull – and then – Saru’s _there_.  Yata keeps his eyes closed – Saru gently brushes the hair out of his eyes and splays out his palm against his forehead.  He whispers in Yata’s ear; close enough that Yata feels the warmth of his breath crawling all over his skin and he uses all of his energy to suppress a shiver, _“Misaki.”_  His name sounds like _silk_ coming from this lips – all sweet and sinful – it makes Misaki’s heart stammer.  “You’re running a fever,” Saru whispers.

 

“So?”  Misaki grunts back, “I’ll sleep it off.” 

 

Saru leans back – away from him again – and doesn’t speak.  Misaki swallows a sigh; he’s exhausted – mentally _and_ physically – and he doesn’t know what kind of games his heart’s playing.  He doesn’t know what kind of games _Saru_ is playing. 

 

The question sits on his tongue. _Do you want to pilot, really? Are you doing it because you’re scared for me?_  

 

“We can have her repaired in a week – that should give enough time for Yata to rest as well.” Yata slowly drifts back into the conversation, stomping on his racing heart. 

 

“That’s not enough time,” Saru mumbles beside him.

 

Kusanagi frowns, “I know – but we can’t afford to waste much time.” 

 

Saru bristles besides him.  “Besides,” Totsuka says, “Yata-kun is a fighter, he won’t need that much time.”  He says it in high spirits, Yata even smiles – ready to bite something back – but Saru slams his hands on the table. 

 

 _“You didn’t feel him dying!”_  Saru shoots up from his seat and his chair clatters behind him. 

 

Yata hears the deafening _boom_ his palms left behind radiating in his ears and when he looks at him – Saru’s palms curl into fist and he _trembles_.  His eyes glare at Totsuka with such _intensity_ and Yata knows that look.  He knows what’s about to happen even before Saru’s twitchy fingers arch back into his sleeves; he’s already got the hilt of a knife gripped at the base when Yata stumbles to stand. 

 

He collapses on Saru – and Saru – with no hesitation, wraps a steady arm around his waist to steady him, “Misaki?!” 

 

“I told you…” Yata fakes a hoarse voice – he even pins Reisi with a glare (the bastard _definitely_ doesn’t believe him if that cocked eyebrow and sly smirk is anything to go by) – “I’m not feeling well…”

 

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” Reisi releases a drawn-out sigh. “Take your partner back to the infirmary – I’ll have someone inform you both of the results of this meeting.” 

 

Yata _means_ to walk normally – but Saru tightens his grasp.  He yanks Yata so most of his weight rests against Saru’s torso, so much so that Yata struggles to stay on his feet at all.  “Just lean on me,” Saru says lowly – the words vibrate against his chest and the warmth is so familiar Yata’s stunned.

 

“Yeah...O-Okay.”

 

Yata waits until they’re out of earshot to clear his throat awkwardly, “I…I’m fine, actually…”

 

Saru doesn’t let go. “You do have a fever.” 

 

Yata bristles and shoves him lightly – Saru presses him tighter against his side the height difference makes Yata stumble into his chest and when he glances up, Saru’s smirking down at hi, “Or maybe that’s just your virgin-self getting a little too excited?” 

 

Yata growls.  He successfully shoves Saru hard enough that he’s forced to let go, “Fuck off.”  Despite his best efforts, his words still don’t have much bite.  Yata angrily runs his fingers through his hair and starts back towards his dorms instead. 

 

“Misaki, stop,”  Saru calls but Yata keeps stomping on.  “Look seriously – you’re not fine, you idiot.  At least take another IV, or just stay the night, or just – “

 

“Why are you pretending to care?” Yata snaps.

 

Saru pauses, hand hovering over Yata’s shoulder.  “I’m not pretending,” he whispers. 

 

Yata groans, his head _kills_ right now – he just wants to go swallow half a jar of Advil and fall on his bed until he passes out.  “I gotta go,” he sighs. 

 

“I thought you were going to die.” 

 

Yata stops. 

 

“You were – you are – the only person who’s ever meant anything to me.”  Yata turns around and Saru’s staring at his hands; he looks broken.  “You almost died – I almost lost everything – how could you think I’d pretend about this?”

 

Yata swallows – he crushes the pain hiking up his throat. “You left me,” his voice comes out scratchy with no bite.  “I was alone for two god damn years, I thought I was going to be alone for the rest of my life,”  sobs hitch out of his throat with every word.  “And when you came back – you…you acted exactly like the day you left – you threw me away.” 

 

“You don’t understand,” Saru whispers. 

 

“Make me, then” Yata demands.  “Make me understand.” 

 

Saru shoves the heels of his palms into his eyes, “you left me first.” He stammers.  “Everything you did – it was just Mikoto this, Mikoto that. All about Mikoto, or Anna, or Kusanagi, or someone who wasn’t me!”

 

Saru pulls his hands down and swallows a sob.  Tears stick to his eyes and he grabs Yata by the shoulders, “I never wanted anyone else, and no one – no one else wants me.”  Saru pulls Yata so his face is crushed against his chest, and like this Yata feels his heart pounding against his ribs.  He hears it throbbing in it ears, and tears slide down Saru’s cheeks to nestle into the crook of Yata’s neck. 

 

“I just want you, Misaki.  But I’m an idiot – I thought you would realize you didn’t need me. And I couldn’t – I couldn’t be thrown away first.  I had to go before you did, before you realized – “

 

Yata shoves Saru off of him and slams a fist on his head so hard that Saru actually crumples.  He falls to his knees and snarls, “What the hell?”   But Saru’s snarl dies – Yata’s glaring down at him, raw fury dancing in his eyes.  “Misaki – “

 

Yata smacks him.  “You thought – “ he kicks him with all of his strength until Saru is a groaning mess of lanky limbs curled up on the floor.  Yata yanks him by the collar until they’re eye level.  “You thought I’d leave?”

 

Yata rattles him, “I spent ten goddamn years of my life with you.  I left my family – any chance of a normal career – to be with you. We dropped out of middle school together – I lived with you for over 5 years – how could you even…even…”

 

Yata struggles to find the words, he suddenly feels the faintness seeping back into his bones and drops Saru like a ragdoll.  He clutches his head in his hands and tugs on the ends of his hair out of frustration.  “And people call _me_ stupid!” 

 

“But you – “

 

“I don’t understand!” Yata mimics, “That’s what you’re going to say – right? Because you’re so high and mighty – seated up there on your stupid throne, and stupid Misaki will never understand, right?” 

 

“ – you were perfect.” Saru stammers lamely. 

 

Yata blanches.  “W-What?”

 

Saru chuckles, “You really don’t understand – you’re like the sun, so bright.  It was only a matter of time until someone amazing whisked you away from me.” 

 

Yata wraps around him and shoves his nose deep into Saru’s chest and just breathes.  Saru tenses at first – just like in middle school – and then every bit of tension bleeds out and he snakes his hands around Yata’s waste and squeezes him exactly as Yata thought he would after two years of holding back.  After two, long, grueling years of emptiness – Yata relishes that familiar warmth shrouding over him. 

 

“You dipshit,” his voice comes out muffled against Saru’s clothes, “I could never leave you,” 

 

Saru hums and presses his cheek against the crown of Yata’s hair. 

 

“I can’t believe I was a bigger idiot than Misaki.”

 

He earns the punch in the gut Yata gives him – but he also earns the sparkling laughter that follows. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: So I finally decided to cave and make a twitter! 
> 
> For anyone who wants to listen to me ramble about life/school/anime, follow me please!! My username is @charizrrd. And let me know your handles so I can follow you all back!!


	7. vii

_“The Kwon room decides compatibility; if you can spar well here, you can fit in a Jaeger.”_

_Misaki stifles a yawn against his palm.  Saruhiko fidgets slightly until their thighs press together; he pokes Misaki in a soft manner that says ‘Lean on me.’  Misaki squirms and rests his head gingerly into the crook of Saru’s neck; they sit in the far back row, Saru sits pin straight and breathes carefully.  Misaki’s breath tickles his neck, and his chest falls into a rhythm as he drifts to sleep_. 

_Saru stays awake for the both of them; but Totsuka stops them as the rest of the cadets filter out.  “You fell asleep during my lecture,”  He grins at them, but Misaki shivers and lightly steps behind Saru.  “That’s not very nice.”_

_“I’m sorry – “ Misaki starts._

_Totsuka cuts him off and gently places a hand on Misaki’s shoulder.  Saru glares at it, burning daggers into the flesh with his eyes.  Totsuka watches all this with a careful eye and slowly removes his hand from Misaki’s shoulder with a thoughtful smile.  “Make it up to me,” he says finally, “Spar with each other; I’d like to test something.”_

_They do._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yata stands outside the con pad;  his legs tremble.  He watches the team inside rustle around to securely strap Saru in.  He hears his name flitting between them, but his fingers shake and two years of fear shroud over his heart.  He catches Saru faintly ask, _“Where’s Misaki?”_

 

Totsuka speaks over the com,  **“Probably getting coffee again,”**

A week passed since the meeting with Anna, a grueling week spent in the hospital with Saru doting on him.  It didn’t feel so bad; it almost felt normal again – Saru biting some snide remark, Yata smiling back – it felt like they were _friends_ again. 

 

But now, ready to stand in a Jaeger – Yata is _terrified_.

Yata shivers; it crawls up his spine and into his neck.  The shivers wash over his brain and Yata’s stomach lurches.  He doesn’t know what he feels.  He doesn’t feel happy or sad; neither excited nor scared.  He feels like a big blob of emotions simmer in his heart, and he can’t pick them apart to do anything.  Yata takes in a deep breath that shakes his core, but he pushes the door open, “I’m here – I overslept,” he lies. 

 

Saru cranes his neck to look at him and Yata’s breath catches in his throat.  He forces it out, forces his chest to rise smoothly as if it doesn’t affect him at _all_.  He resists the urge to scan his eyes over Saru, strapped into that skin-tight suit, positioned in _Silverback Blossom_. 

 

In _their_ Jaeger.

 

The crew leaves Saru and fuss over Yata.  Their hands strap him in, but Yata feels hazy.  “Hey,” Saru calls out – Yata’s heart stutters when he glances at him.  “Are you feeling okay for this?”

 

Yata growls, “I’ve _been_ fine.”  Physically, at least. 

 

Saru raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t question him further.   When the team finally straps Yata in and they all filter out, the thought that they’re blaringly alone swallows Yata completely. 

 

**“Initiating drift in 3…2…1”**

 

Yata ponders over leaving the walls intact, the ones he carefully constructed for Kamamoto.  But he swallows a shuddering breath and allows them to collapse around him; the concrete falls.  

 

The drift connects, and Yata is _warm_. 

 

His eyes fall shut and the familiar warmth of _Saru_ engulfs him.  His lips twitch into a smile, and the buzz shrouds over him.  Saru’s thoughts start to filter across their connection and Yata relishes in the raw happiness that lines them.  _Connected_?  Saru asks.

 

 _Yeah._ The word sounds breathless, it resonates between them and Yata’s thoughts of _home_ tumble though the connection.  Saru curls around those thoughts; Yata senses the longing bleeding from his end as well. 

 

 _Welcome home_. 

 

Yata can’t tell which one of them thinks that – the line between their souls blurs too much.

 

 **“Ready boys?** ” 

 

“Yes.”  Saru says clearly.  “We’re ready.” 

 

**“Alright, I’m gonna drop the handshake.”**

 

Yata slams his eyes shut when the drift crumbles around them.  He keeps his eyes closed to the darkness and takes small, shuddering breaths.  The emptiness feels a lot more harrowing now that he’s tasted Saru spreading over his brain again. 

 

 **“You boys back?”** Totsuka calls. Yata struggles to open his eyes – in fear of staring into empty darkness, in fear of waking to a disconnected drift. 

 

 _Hey_.  Yata hears Saru speaking, and he feels _Silverback_ prodding at him.  In their own way, they both say, _It’s okay._

 

Yata opens his eyes; he watches the sun shine through the glass windows of the shatter dome.  If he cranes his neck, he sees Saru beaming at him, wearing a gentle smile.  He stretches out his hand, cracks his knuckles, and relishes the feel of _Silverback_ mimicking his movements. 

 

And amidst all of that, he feels Saru’s presence washing over him like waves. 

 

 _Wanna take her to the ocean?_  Saru questions. 

 

Yata doesn’t answer with words, he sends a memory of crisp ocean air filling his nostrils instead. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anna sends a message to meet him.  She doesn’t give a location, so Yata chooses his own and waits for her to find him.

 

He swings his legs over the railing on the base rooftop; he rests on his elbows and sucks in a deep breath. 

 

“Misaki,”  Anna greets; she gingerly sits beside him.  Anna curls her tiny fingers into the sleeve of his sweater.  “Are you okay?”

 

Yata shrugs, “If you mean from the meeting last week, I wasn’t really feeling that bad,” he scratches the back of his neck.  “I just…well Saru was gonna pull a knife, so I had to do something.” 

 

Anna grins and softly folds her hands on her lap, “I know.”

 

Yata awkwardly clears his throat and quickly turns his head to hide his reddening his cheeks.  “Mikoto said you wanted to talk?” 

 

“Do you have my marble?” 

 

Yata digs around in his shorts; he yanks out Anna’s marble and holds it out for her to see, “I don’t know what I’m even supposed to do with this.”

 

“Hold it up to the moon – and what do you see?”  Anna’s lips curve into a small smile, and her vibrant red eyes twinkle smugly. 

 

Yata swallows, he holds the marble so the moonlight curves over the edges, and in its red depths he finds a mop of pitch black hair, and brown eyes sneering down at him.  Yata sinks, he shuts his eyes. “I see him,” he mumbles. 

 

“I think he sees you too,” Anna offers. 

 

Yata groans, leaning back farther on his elbows, “What does that even mean?”

 

“It shows you who you want to see the most,” Anna says, “They’re never wrong,” 

 

“I’m worried,” Yata whispers.  He curls his fist around the marble and clutches it close against his chest. “What if he’s lying? What if he really doesn’t want to pilot, and he’s just humoring me so I don’t do something stupid?” 

 

Anna wrinkles her nose into a frown, she softly traces the lines in the concrete and hums under her breath, “But he still doesn’t want you to die?” 

 

Yata rolls his eyes, “Obv- “  he stops.  Anna arches an eyebrow, Yata pictures himself two years ago, curled under his sheets and crying into a soaked pillow.  He remembers the emptiness, how lost it felt – it felt like Saru had never wanted anything to do with him at all.  But now, perhaps Yata was _wrong_. 

 

“S’pose he obviously doesn’t,” he murmurs.  He rolls the marble over his palm, no matter which way the light falls – all he sees is _Saru’s_ judgmental stare seeping into his soul. 

 

“You two are very special,”  Anna tells him.  “When I first met you, I couldn’t tell your aura apart.” 

 

Yata blinks,  “We were very close back then.”

 

Anna furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head,  “It was more than that – it’s still more than that.  You have souls that yearn for each other, and it’s hard to tell where one stops and the other begins.”  Anna chuckles softly, “I hated seeing you both, because it made my head hurt.” 

 

Yata grimaces, “I’m no seer; but that sounds painful.  How did you stop it? Er…it did stop, right?” He rubs his reddening ears.

 

Anna giggles, “Yes it stopped.  I stopped trying to make a straight line between you two; you just blended together too much for me to split you apart.  And even when Saruhiko was in Germany, my marbles couldn’t look at you separately, it was like your soul stretched over continents.” 

 

Yata watches the marble roll on his palm as Anna continues, “And that’s why I know that you want the same things.  You both yearn for the same goals – Rikio is a nice boy, and he will pilot a nice Jaeger, but Misaki why would you yearn to pilot with him when you have a perfect match?” 

 

Yata squeezes his eyes shut, “I guess I really need him, huh?”

 

“No,” Anna frowns.  “You are strong, and so is he.  You don’t need him in the same ways that he doesn’t need you, but you work together beautifully. You create your own lives and spin them together and intertwine them; it’s beautiful to watch.  But you never _need_ him _._ ”

 

Yata watches Saruhiko’s soft bangs falling into his eyes through the glowing red marble, “But I really, _really_ want him.” 

 

Anna grins, “Misaki understands.”

 

Yata twirls the marble over his palm, “I think I need to go talk to someone,”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yata finds Kamamoto alone in an empty cafeteria, sadly nibbling at a vending machine pop tart and Yata giggles under his breath.  He slips in front of him and Kamamoto physically startles.  His eyes widen, but he quickly drops his head and mumbles something so quiet Yata can’t hear it, “Well, hello to you too then.” He grouches.

 

Kamamoto fidgets, “You should be mad at me.”

 

Yata rolls his eyes, “for almost dying? Sure then.”  He stretches over and lightly taps Kamamoto on the head, “Hey don’t almost die, it’ll make me mad.”

 

Kamamoto frowns, “I’m serious! It’s really – “

 

Yata kicks him for real, hard enough that Kamamoto yelps and gingerly rubs his shin.  “I told you,” Yata crosses his arms over his chest and glares,  “It really wasn’t your fault.”  Kamamoto tries to speak again, but Yata continues,  “You know, if you really want to blame someone – you outta blame me.”

 

“Yata-san!” Kamamoto slams his hands on the table, for a brief moment, a flicker of anger dances in his eyes, but it’s not enough. 

 

“I don’t know if we would have been bad pilots,” Yata continues, he smiles softly.  “I think we would have been a great team – but not in _Silverback_.”  Kamamoto blinks at him.  “Ah…” Yata rubs the back of his neck, “It’s a little hard to explain, but she…well she only wants me and Saru, I guess.” 

 

“I think I know what you mean,”  Kamamoto mumbles, “It felt like I never belonged, and I was scared of telling you because I thought you would kick me out.  I’d have to train all over again and I’d have to find someone else…” Kamamoto trails off and twiddles his thumbs together, “But I guess I still have to do that, in the end?”

 

Yata smiles, it’s small and constrained; the dejected aura hurts his heart.  “You kind of remind me of how I felt after Saru left.  I was pissed as fuck, I thought it was all my fault, I thought I’d never pilot again because I lost _one_ guy and nothing could cheer me up,” 

 

Kamamoto frowns deeper, “Yea but he actually left.” 

 

Yata sighs, “Didn’t _you_ tell me to go find another partner?”  Yata raises an eyebrow when Kamamoto turns red and starts to sputter over his words.  “We could have made a good drift team – we _do_.” Yata affirms,  “But the problem wasn’t you – or really even me – _Silverback_ already had people, and here I was trying to bring in a third party without even asking her.”

 

“You make it sound like you tried to re-marry,” Kamamoto scoffs. 

 

Yata rolls his eyes, “Regardless, but you get it don’t you?”

 

Kamamoto sighs, “So if we had another Jaeger – you and I would be great partners.”  He nuzzles his head into his elbows and his words come out muffled together Yata strains to hear them.  “But are you gonna leave _Silverback?_ Just because we _could_ be partners doesn’t mean we will now that he’s back.” 

 

Yata frowns and bites his lip.  “No,” he agrees. 

 

Kamamoto sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, “Chitose told me I should find a new partner.” 

 

Yata laughs, “Go spar with him, then.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yata paces around his room later that evening.  He bites his tongue and contains himself back to one half of their room. 

 

 _Their_ room. 

 

Saru’s coming back. 

 

It’s Yata’s first night back after Saru’s insistence that he stay in the hospital ward.  Yata’s not even given one day to himself before Kusanagi pitched the brilliant idea that Saru move back in. 

 

 _“For convenience!”_  He’d said.

 

It’s conveniently making Yata’s heart burst out of his chest. 

 

The excitement burns up his throat when he _finally_ hears a knock.  

 

“Hey,” he mumbles – Yata bites the corner of his cheeks to withhold a smile.  He peers up at Saru; the words get caught in Yata’s throat.  Saru’s wearing a thin smile with two large boxes encased in his arms, “Come in,” Yata chokes.  “You can um…have your old bed back,”

 

Saru cocks an eyebrow, “How kind of you to offer.”

 

Yata rolls his eyes; Saru struggles to fit under the door frame – so Yata starts grabbing a box near the top, “I’ll help yo-“

 

“No.” Saru snatches the boxes back, and Yata blinks awkwardly. 

 

Yata watches Saru click his tongue and adjust the glasses to sit on his nose, but a light pink color still rises to his cheeks.  “You’re still healing,” he grumbles.

 

Yata opens to argue, but Saru turns his back in a gesture that means _even if you talk, I won’t listen_.   Yata collapses on his bed instead. 

 

A heavy awkwardness settles around them. Yata hears rustling cardboard while staring at his ceiling.  Saru doesn’t break the silence, so Yata clears his throat and ignores his pounding heart.  “So…” Yata drawls. 

 

Saru snorts at him; he still doesn’t speak. 

 

Yata groans and rolls over to smash his place into a pillow. “You could at least try,” his words muffle against the pillow, he shifts his head to the side and watches Saru’s muscles roll under the pressure of all the boxes.  “Do you remember when we first moved in?”

 

Saru stiffens,  “Yeah,” he sighs.  “I do.” 

 

Yata grins and rolls onto his back; he splays out his arms and basks in the ray of sunlight that screens through the window. He allows his eyes to fall shut and breathes deeply.  “We fought so hard over that stupid bed – but you won in the end, as usual,”  Yata chuckles under his breath. 

 

The bed dips near Yata’s feet.  “Before Anna’s meeting,”  Saru mumbles.  Yata lazily opens an eye and watches Saru trace the wooden lines in the bedpost with a sour expression.  “You said you saw yourself.”

 

Yata shivers, “Yeah, I told you – I think it was my - ” 

 

“ – you’re connection with _Silverback,_ yea, you said that,”  Saru swallows and wrings the fabric of his pants between his fingers. “I think you’re wrong,”  he whispers.  Yata watches him curl his fingers into his thighs;  Saru inhales a shaky breath and Yata strains his ears to listen,  “It was me.”  Saru breathes,  “It was _me_.” 

 

Yata gingerly sits up and keeps his voice low, “What do you mean?” 

 

Saru sighs, “I mean – “ he starts as a drawl – but he quickly clears his throat and his cheeks start to turn red – “What I mean is that’s how I wanted you to look at me,” he significantly softens his tone and picks at the seams of his pants. “I wanted you to only look at me, only need me, and I hated whenever you got to close to the others.  I _hated_ it.”  Saru shuts his eyes and quickly swipes a hand under his eyes – Yata catches a suspicious spot of wetness on his sleeve, “So that…that version of you that cried for me – it was never you, it was me.” 

 

Yata’s heart stammers in his chest, “That doesn’t make any sense – I saw myself like that from the beginning – even before that day; even before you supposedly drifted with me.”

 

“And it’s been me every time _dammit!”_  Saru slams his fists on his knees.  He curls over himself and a dry sob hacks up his throat.  Yata waits for the shivers climbing up his spine to fall to a gentle hum before speaking.

 

“You have to explain to me so I _understand_.” Yata demands. 

 

Saru leans back against the bedpost with his eyes shut.  “You started admiring Mikoto, and then you started hanging out a lot with Totsuka, and then Totsuka became Kusanagi, then Anna, and they all _loved_ you.”  Saru starts picking at his fingernails, “And here I was, some fucked up childhood friend, why would you ever choose me over them?”

 

“It’s not about choosing anyone,” Yata says carefully, “I don’t want to choose either of you.”

 

Saru sighs.  “I know, but if you had to – you would – “

 

“Then isn’t the answer obvious?”  Yata furrows his eyebrows;  Saru’s eyes widen and he stares down at him, “I would always choose you, over anyone – if I had to make the choice.  But that’s not the point,  I don’t _have_ to.  So I won’t.” 

 

Saru smiles under his breath,  “Yea you…you don’t. You never did, but I tried to make you.”

 

Yata huffs out a breath and glares at the ceiling, “You’re a real asshole for that, you know? That and many other things.” 

 

Saru chuckles,  “You’re just too much fun to mess with, _Misaki_.” 

 

Yata snorts, he sticks his toes in Saru’s face.  Saru growls and snatches his ankle; Yata laughs so hard his stomach hurts, Saru grimaces at him – but it quickly morphs into an evil smirk, “Are you still ticklish?”

 

“Oi!” Yata desperately yanks his foot. 

 

Saru smirks and arches an eyebrow, “Is that a yes, _Misaki_?” 

 

Saru lunges forward; he pins Yata down between his knees.  Yata gasps for breath;  those nimble fingers climb up his side.  

 

Saru _laughs_.

 

He laughs at Yata’s weak struggles, glides his hands all over Yata’s body – and Yata chokes on his own spit.  His chest aches, and his lungs start to burn, but he doesn’t try all that hard.  He sucks in a greedy breath when Saru leans back, wearing a smug smirk and crossing his arms over his chest in a way that says _I win, as usual_.  

 

Yata rolls over towards the wall.  He throws a lazy arm over his eyes to block the filtering sunlight and pats the spot beside him.  Saru stays tense, but Yata groans and snatches his collar to yank him down face-first into the pillow.  Saru muffles some words against the pillow, and Yata only allows him to roll over after Saru smacks at his stomach. 

 

Saru flips over, he stretches his arms above his head, and Yata ponders settling into the crook of his neck.  He doesn’t; he allows Saru to shuffle closer and press their bodies together – it’s not the same as it was, but it’s something.  Yata still releases a pleased hum; he didn’t expect to rekindle ten years of friendship in a few days. 

 

Yata waits for that warmth to settle; for Saru to merge into him until the gentle pull of sleep tugs at his eyelids.  He waits for the pressure to leave Saru; until he’s puddle of mush pressed up against Yata in their tiny little dorm-bed before he speaks.  “So tell me about your drift,” 

 

Saru hums and it rumbles where their bodies touch.  “I don’t really understand it much myself,” Saru admits lazily.  “And if I don’t get it, then obviously _Misaki_ won’t,” he grins. 

 

“Oi,” Yata yawns.

 

Saru starts to stand, “You should sle-“

 

“Can’t you tell me?” 

 

Saru’s half up, but he peers down at a half-lidded Yata gazing up at him with sleep-ridden eyes and a gentle smile.  Saru sighs, it climbs up his chest in a way that Yata recognizes as dramatic and fake, “Fine.” 

 

Saru settles back beside him and a pleased grunt climbs up Yata’s throat, “When you first drifted with Kamamoto, how did _Silverback_ feel?” 

 

Yata frowns,  “She was upset that it wasn’t you.” 

 

Saru smiles, “But you convinced yourself that was you.”

 

Yata opens his eyes, “Well it had to be, who the fuck else _would_ it be?” 

 

Saru reaches over and snatches both of Yata’s hands.  He holds them in the air and points to Yata’s left palm, “this is you, and this – “ he taps Yata’s right, “ – is me.”  Saru cups his own hands around Yata’s smaller ones, joining them together,  “And my hands are _her_.” 

 

Yata rolls his eyes, “Are you gonna teach me the ABCs next?” 

 

Saru kicks him in the shin, “Just shut up, I’m trying to be nice.”  Saru swallows, “So it works like this, right? Two drifters, swallowed by a robot, and they connect to the robot and you have a neural connection.”

 

“Yea,” Yata agrees. “Easy enough.” 

 

“But say the same two drifters stay in the same robot – it would make a pattern,”  Saru shudders beside him.  “So every time those drifters step into that robot, they follow that pattern, stabilize the connection and continue on with the drift.” 

 

Yata narrows his eyes, “Seriously, I _know_ how a drift works.”

 

Saru glares at him,  “Now cut out half of that team, and put in a replacement.  Wouldn’t the other drifter feel out of place?”

 

Yata’s heart slips, he remembers _Silverback_ crying in the back of his mind. “Yea,” he whispers, “S’pose they would.”

 

Saru clears his throat and pointedly looks away, he gently lowers Yata’s right palm.  “The idea of the ghost drift is that two people drift so often, become so connected that they start drifting even outside of a Jaeger. It’s a remarkably strong phenomenon, and some people describe it as reading each other’s thoughts all the time, but we – “

 

“We were basically able to do that before we even came here,” Yata finishes.

 

Saru smiles, but he quickly morphs into a smirk, “You can be a little intelligent sometimes, but that’s not the end of it.”

 

Yata rolls his eyes, “Keep going then.” 

 

Saru curls his hands to completely encompass both of Yata’s hands into one mush,  “So you take two drifters – already with a ridiculously strong drift before they’ve ever stepped foot in a Jaeger – and then you give them one, make them drift long enough to form a ghost drift, what do you get?”

 

“A really fucking strong ghost drift,” Yata mumbles. 

 

“Yes,” Saru agrees, “Strong enough that even with a distance, they would manage to drift together – _outside_ of a Jaeger.”

 

Yata swallows; his heart stammers against his rib cage.  Saru’s still holding his hands, and Yata likes looking at them that way – completely engulfed by Saru’s larger ones.  His tongue feels dry, and when he speaks his voice comes out hoarse and rough.  But feeling Saru’s calloused fingers mold over his hands gives him the strength to continue, “But why was the younger version of myself actually you?” 

 

Saru swallows, he squeezes Yata’s palms tighter together, “I think…” Saru shudders as he breathes; Yata feels his chest shake pressed up against his shoulder. “I left that part of me in our connection to _Silverback_.”  Yata cranes his neck;  Saru’s bangs fall into his eyes but Yata catches the look of guilt.  “Every time you connected – regardless of with who – our drift was so strong that a little piece of me was always there, and it didn’t want you to pilot with anyone else.  It was never you that was the problem, or Kamamoto, it was _me_.” 

 

Saru drops their joined hands; he crosses his palms over his chest and Yata watches his chest heave.  He breathes irregularly, and Yata watches him bite his lip as if holding a sob in his throat.  He imagines strapping into _Silverback,_ reaching back into the connection to snap at her, demand her acceptance of Kamamoto.  He remembers her weak resistance whimpering back, _begging_ to bring Saru back.  

 

And that – that _can’t_ only be Saru. 

 

Yata reaches over and twines their hands together.  He squeezes their palms; they slot together as easily as Yata remembers, as if it belongs this way. 

 

“No,” he mumbles, he leans over to slip his nose against the crook of Saru’s neck.  He breathes in deeply, holding that scent in his nose; it washes over him and Yata almost feels _Silverback_ like this.  He feels her relaxing and saying _finally, I’m home_. 

 

Maybe, maybe that’s not _Silverback_ at all.

 

“It wasn’t only you; I wanted you there, too.” 

 

Saru tilts his face, Yata feels his cheek press against the crown of his head.  Saru nuzzles his nose against Yata’s scalp and a pleased hum climbs up his throat.  _“Misaki –_ “

 

Kusanagi slams the door open. 

 

“The Kaiju are here.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this Saturday I’m going to be leaving for vacation; I most likely am gonna miss an update but I may or may not post the chapter early, I just wanted to warn you all in advance! I promise i’ll be back! 
> 
> And I also increased the rating for the next few chapters soooooo, assume what you want about that ;)


	8. viii

_Yata collapses on the bed of their dorm room.  He stays silent for a total of ten seconds before kicking his feet out with a squeal, “We’re gonna do it,” he whispers. He rolls over and tucks his head onto his elbows and watches Saru gingerly change into his pajamas from the corner of his eyes._

_Yata watches the roll of his muscles. Laying there; surrounded by Saru, sends a pleasant hum spiking up his back._

_Saru glances back and tosses him a small smile, “We’re gonna do it,” he agrees._

_Yata squeals and shoves his face deeper into the pillow.  He imagines it; defeating a Kaiju and coming home wrapped in Saru’s arms; everyone will cheer their name, everyone will honor them.  They’ll save the world._

_“We’re gonna fucking do it.” Yata cheers._

**“When the category V comes, we’re naming her Boneface**.” Totsuka says across the com. 

 

 _Silverback_ stares out in the ocean, waiting for the Kaiju simmering beneath the ocean to rise.

 

They connect via the com not only to Totsuka, but to _Fire King_ – the towering Jaeger that stands at her side.  **“The other one, more than likely a category III, we’ll call Killrain.”**

 

 **“Interesting names you’ve created,”** Reisi hums, Totsuka bites something back over the com, but Yata’s too busy scratching at the newly made sensors attached to his palms to hear.  His stomach lurches when the water starts to bubble in the distance. 

 

“Tell me about the Pons again,” he demands.  He glances down to patches taped to his hands, there’s a pair taped to Saru’s too.  Theoretically, they link to the wireless Pons that Totsuka placed in _Silverback’s_ left palm, theoretically – they’re the ticket to drift with the Kaiju.

 

Totsuka sighs, **“You’re going to stab the wireless headset into the Kaiju’s frontal lobe, just above it’s nose.”**  Yata twirls the imaginary thing through his fingers, _Silverback_ twirls the actual gadget in real life. **“You’ll disconnect the drift to _Silverback_ and reconnect to the Kaiju via the sensor patches on your hand.  After that – “**

“Just hope to make it back alive,” Saru hisses.  He curls his hands into fists and tosses Yata a solemn look, “Yea, we know that part.”  

 

Yata hears the nervousness in Totsuka’s voice, **“Please be as careful as you can, both of you.”**

 

Yata fidgets in his suit, “We’ll try,” he answers.

 

The bubbles in the water drift closer.  _Are you scared_?  Saru questions.

 

Yata’s anxiety simmers across the drift and Saru physically sighs. _Yea, me too._

The bubbles in the water emerge to reveal the tip of slimy, green scales.  Saru bristles across the drift and Yata digs _Silverback’s_ toes into the wet sand. **“She’s coming,”** Mikoto warns, **“Get ready.”**

 

The Kaiju erupts from the ocean with a mighty roar.  Yata hisses under his breath; she stands on her hind legs and she stands as tall as _Silverback_.  His stomach plummets and he senses Saru’s fear trickling over the drift as well.  A layer of spines line her back and when she snarls and radioactive blue saliva flies from her teeth.  “It’s _huge_.” Yata hisses. 

 

The creature growls at them, she stretches her claws – each one stems as long as _Silverback’s_ fingers and her beady eyes narrow on the two Jaeger that stand before her. **“Boneface.”**  Reisi snarls, **“This is definitely the category V.”**

 

The Kaiju snarls at them again, baring her teeth.

 

She lunges. 

 

She barrels straight for _Silverback_ – she outstretches her claws and pounces.  Saru and Yata throw their arms up and brace their Jaeger into the sand; the Kaiju knocks them back a few feet; but they shove forward and the beast crashes backwards with a howl.  **“Nice!”**  Totsuka calls to them.

 

Saru and Yata wear twin smiles. 

 

Boneface rises again; she growls and swims for _Silverback_ with her head submerged in the water.  _Fire King_ leaps into the air and smashes it’s elbow directly onto her tail; the creature shrieks beneath the water; it ripples across the ocean and forces her to turn and yank her tail free. 

 

She snaps backwards and whips her tail.  **“Mikoto!”** Yata screams out – but the Kaiju smacks her tail directly into _Fire King’s_ chest-plate.  A hunk of metal breaks free and collapses into the ocean.

 

  _Fire King_ staggers. The Kaiju pounces; she digs her claws into the scratched chest plate and sparks sizzle out of the torn wires. 

 

 _Silverback_ sprints forward; Saru snatches the Kaiju by the tail and yanks her back.  The beast’s screech rings in Yata’s ear – he can’t uncurl his fist, he grips the wireless Pons, but he smashes the Kaiju’s snout down with his closed fist. He feels her teeth _rattle._   The Kaiju releases an ear-splitting scream and snaps her teeth until she bites _Silverback’s_ metal fingers until they drop her. 

 

Boneface collapses and Yata sucks in a breath.  **“Why isn’t the other one coming?”**  Reisi tenses, **“I don’t like this.”**

Yata shivers, **“Isn’t one enough to deal with right now?”**

Reisi snaps something back, but Boneface drowns it with a deafening shriek as she rises from the water again.  She shakes water mixed with neon blue blood from her snout.

 

“She hasn’t even got a scratch on her,” Yata mumbles.

 

Saru takes a suspiciously long time to answer.

 

 Yata cranes his neck, “Saru?”

 

Saru blinks, “Huh? Oh…Sorry, I…sorry.” Saru shakes his head to clear it, “Just saw something interesting, you were saying something?’

 

Yata rolls his eyes, “We’re getting our butts kicked,” 

 

Boneface leaps at _Silverback_ ; only the tips of her toes graze the top of the ocean.  Yata hisses under his breath, she’s _huge_.  She shoves her claws into the circuits of _Silverback’s_ shoulder and Saru gasps at the sharp pain that radiates down both of their necks. 

 

Saru claws at the Kaiju’s back, but she sinks her fangs into _Silverback’s_ head and Yata watches the tips of her teeth press through the view stand.  “Fuck!” he screams, he nearly drops the Pons to rip the Kaiju off their head. 

 

She digs her knees into _Silverback’s_ side, pressing hard enough that the metal starts to crack under the pressure.  “Don’t drop it!” Saru screams at him, “Whatever you do, don’t drop it!”

 

 _Fire King_ surges forward and slams the Kaiju.  The creature wails and falls into the ocean,  one of her teeth stays lodged in _Silverback’s_ skull and Yata takes a shuddering breath.  **“Thank you.”**  Saru speaks into the com, **“Really needed that.”**

 

Boneface dives down and rises again, blood cleared from her face.  She surges for _Fire King_ with a battle cry erupting from her throat.  _Silverback_ sprints forward to intercept – but something blocks their path. 

 

A new Kaiju bursts from the ocean.

 

“Killrain.” Yata breathes. 

 

But something’s _wrong_.  “That’s – “ Saru gasps, “That’s _not_ a category III.” 

 

The Kaiju is taller than _Silverback_ by at least two meters; unlike Boneface her back is devoid of spikes, but her claws stretch about the length of _Silverback’s_ entire hand.  Her beady eyes flit back and forth and low growl rumbles in her throat.  She clacks her claws together and watches them.

 

She’s larger than any Kaiju Yata’s ever _seen_. 

 

His heart plummets. 

 

 **“That’s at least…”** Yata hears Totsuka struggle to type something.  **“That’s a category V.  It has to be.”**  Totsuka whimpers.

 

The new Kaiju – Killrain – whips across the ocean for _Silverback_.  Saru barely throws his arms up to guard their face.  The Kaiju sinks her teeth into his elbow.  “She’s fucking fast,” Yata snarls, he juts an elbow into her jaw – the Kaiju lets go with a howl.  It rips away from _Silverback_ and gracefully dives back into the ocean.

 

Saru looks lost again when Yata glances at him, but he quickly recovers.  “This isn’t good,” Saru hisses.

 

 _Fire King_ slams Killrain into the depths of the ocean when she rises; but she easily slips beneath them; her webbed feet allow her to wade through the water much easier than any Kaiju they’ve seen before. 

 

Killrain slams _Silverback_ in the chest, rough enough to jar her pilots but _Fire King_ snatches her by the tail once more and yanks her backwards.  Boneface creeps up behind them, but while Reisi crushes Killrain’s face, Mikoto uses his free hand to crack Boneface’s elbow until the Kaiju howls and collapses back into the ocean to lick her wounds. 

 

Killrain rushes back to avenge her sister, she stampedes towards _Fire King_ with a deafening roar.  Reisi and Mikoto cross their arms above their face and hold her back. They quiver under her weight, but _Fire King_ shoves her off and Killrain falls into the ocean.

Boneface bursts from the water and grabs _Silverback_ by the ankles.  Yata shrieks when he feels himself tilting, but he grinds _Silverback’s_ toes in the wet stand; it serves as a weak anchor.   Boneface hisses out a yowl and tugs meticulously at _Silverback’s_ ankles but Yata refuses to budge. 

 

“Saru,” Yata snaps, “ I need some help here!” 

 

Yata receives no response. He snaps at Boneface until she simmers back towards the ocean floor, and a small moment of piece surrounds them. 

 

“Oi, Saru!” Yata shrieks, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

 

Yata cranes his neck, Saruhiko’s staring out into the ocean – his pupils are blown wide and his mouth hangs open.  _Fuck._   

 

**“Yata, what’s wrong? Why isn’t Fushimi responding?”**

“He’s…fuck!” Yata slams his foot angrily; _Silverback_ responds and leaves a rough indent in the ocean floor.  “He’s chasing a rabbit,”  Yata groans. 

 

Saru’s head falls backward, and Yata watches him lose himself completely, “He’s _really_ in there.” Yata struggles, but only _Silverback’s_ left side responds, “And I’m trapped in the drift – I can’t do anything!”

 

 **“Go after him.”** Reisi says. 

 

Yata freezes, “Are you crazy? There’s two Kaiju out on the floor right now – if I leave right now – “

 

 **“Oi, Yata, do you think so poorly of an old man like me? Who do you think was handling all this before you came here?”** Mikoto snorts.  **“Go save him before you lose him again.”**

Yata swallows, “Thank you.” 

 

He succumbs to the memory. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_After they defeat their very first Kaiju, Saruhiko is breathless._

_He hears Misaki cheer beside him, and he hears Totsuka cheer over the com – but mostly, he feels the excitement dance across their drift.  His brain fills to the brim with Misaki, and it’s the fullest Saruhiko has ever felt in his life._

_It mesmerizes him, his own voice screams with joy until his throat becomes raw.  He still yells, despite the scratchy feeling that settles in his throat – he still yells so loud that it resonates across the con pad._

_And the best part – Saruhiko pulls on the muscles in his neck and gapes.  Misaki’s staring at him, a joyous smile sits on his lips and his rich, brown eyes shine with fresh tears and he looks so_ alive _._

_Saruhiko wants to rip the suit from his body and squeeze Misaki until he hears bones crunching.  He wants to hold him tightly against his chest and listen to magical sound of his laughter filling his heart.  He never, ever wants to leave the drift – never wants to stop feeling Misaki filling every nook of his heart._

_Water sloshes up into Silverback’s joints, and the miles of ocean that stretch before them have never looked more beautiful.  Saruhiko marvels at the shining sun, the crashing waves – and Misaki’s gorgeous laugh resounding all over._

_They return Silverback to the shatter dome; they sit through the crew pulling them both into hugs.  Chitose noogies Misaki so hard a little bit of his chestnut hair sticks to Chitose’s palm, Kusanagi squeezes the both of them and Saruhiko doesn’t even mind the stench of cigarette smoke that clings to him.  He relishes in it, drowns in it, even Mikoto softly ruffles their hair and Saruhiko feels Misaki’s inevitable excitement as if the drift stays connected._

_It’s mesmerizing. In a million ways.  It’s everything Saruhiko imagined a deep-rooted connection to Misaki would feel like and so much more smashed together._

_Saruhiko watches the team muddle together, so caught up in the victory that no one notices Misaki shove past them and tumble into Saruhiko.  He laughs wondrously, and Saruhiko relishes his fingers sinking into the flesh of his back, Misaki’s nose inhales his scent and he’s surrounded only by Misaki and it’s everything he’s ever dreamed._

_“This is perfect,” Saruhiko whispers, he wraps his arms around Misaki and squeezes back in such equal fervor.  “This is perfect.”_

_They celebrate well into the night, downing shots of bitter alcohol in Kusanagi’s bar, and they fall asleep like that, too.  All curled up in a huge pile, and Saruhiko ends the night running his fingers through Misaki’s hair.  He runs the soft strands through his fingers and watches the rise and fall of Misaki’s chest until his eyelids fall shut, too._

_And in those dreary moments before he succumbs to sleep, Saruhiko thinks:_

_This is where I belong._

 

The memory warps.

 

 

 

 

_Saruhiko lies in Misaki’s bed._

_Misaki lies next to him with his head settled into the crook of Saruhiko’s neck, and a lazy arm thrown over his torso.  When Misaki speaks, his warm breath travels down Saruhiko’s spine and sends a hot buzz all over his body._

_Saruhiko nuzzles the top of Misaki’s head; when Misaki giggles, his chest shakes, and he presses closer and the pleasant warmth that blooms over Saruhiko’s cheeks settles into his heart as well.  “Do you ever miss home?” Saruhiko asks, lazily drawing circles on the small of Misaki’s back.  Misaki smiles, he allows his eyes to fall shut.  Saruhiko stops for a moment to fix the bridge of his glasses; Misaki nudges him with his nose until Saruhiko resumes and a pleased hum climbs up Misaki’s throat._

_“I don’t know,” Misaki answers finally, “Do you?”_

_Saruhiko frowns, “Of course not,”_

_Misaki chuckles, his laugh tickles Saruhiko’s skin.  “I miss the kids, sometimes.  My mom calls every now and then, but I don’t really care to go back,” he admits. He sighs deeply, “Does that make me a bad son?”_

_Saruhiko snorts and lightly kicks Misaki in the shin, “What kind of son does that make me, then? I didn’t even go to my father’s funeral.”_

_Saruhiko feels Misaki frown against the hollow of his throat.  “That man wasn’t a father,” Misaki says, “He deserves what he got.”_

_Saruhiko freezes, “You asked me if I wanted to go, back then,” he whispers._

_Misaki sighs, “I didn’t really understand back then, but I do now.”_

_Saruhiko clicks his tongue, “In the end, I’m still his son.  My own mother probably doesn’t want to see my face like this, when I look so much like him.”_

_Misaki pulls away from his neck and props up on his elbows so he’s glaring down at Saruhiko.  Saruhiko swallows – Misaki looks pissed – “You’re not - ” Misaki snarls, “- anything like that man, you’re you.”_

_Saruhiko feels a lump forming in his throat, “You’re an asshole, but you feel guilt, don’t you?” Misaki continues._

_Saruhiko shudders, tears start streaming from his eyes before he can stop them.  Misaki collapses on his chest and squeezes him until the sobs fall to small hiccups.  “Thank you,” Saruhiko whispers._

_“Don’t thank me for telling the truth, dumb ass.”_

_Saruhiko smiles against the crown of Misaki’s hair, “Misaki’s an idiot, but sometimes you know the right things to say,”_

Yata’s throat burns, he reaches out for the both of them  – but right when his fingers touch the edge of Saruhiko’s hair, the memory warps again.

_Totsuka corners him one day, without Misaki, as Saruhiko heads back to their dorm room._

_“You know,” Totsuka starts, “It’s a shame you became a pilot, a brain like yours would have been amazing on my research team.”_

_Saruhiko freezes, he narrows his eyes.  Totsuka wears that shimmering smile that makes Misaki melt, but it makes Saruhiko want to throw up his walls and cower behind them.  He bites the inside of his cheek to school his expression. He hates the calculating nature of Totsuka Tatara with every drop of blood in his body. “What a shame,” he snaps, “Misaki snatched me before you could,”_

_Totsuka grins, “Don’t you think it’s quite the opposite?”_

_Saruhiko furrows his eyebrows.  “What do you mean?”_

_Totsuka shrugs his shoulders,  “The way you dote on him, you make it seem like you snagged him,”_

_Saruhiko snorts and crosses his arms over his chest, a small bit of emotion threatens to leak through his eyes but he quickly files that away.  “Of course not, Misaki threw himself onto me.  And even if I tried to get rid of him – you know how he is, he’d latch on to me.”_

_Totsuka chuckles, “Yes, he’s quite the character.  Although if you really wanted to these days, you could leave him if you wanted.”  Saruhiko’s heart plummets.  “Yata-chan has so many new friends nowadays – and so do you – it’s a shame that both of you still only rely on each other like this,”_

_“What are you saying?” Saruhiko snarls._

_“Nothing! Nothing!”  Totsuka throws his arms up, “I’m not trying to say anything at all – but I think you both should consider branching out, doesn’t it get lonely only having one friend?”_

_Saruhiko glares, “Not at all.”_

_Totsuka starts to speak, but Saruhiko cuts him off by storming from the room.  His hands clench into fists by his side, and the thought of Misaki’s upset face stops him from whipping out one of his throwing knives._

_The thought of Misaki stills him._

_Totsuka’s words haunt him, and Saruhiko starts to wonder – does Misaki feel lonely?  He wonders if Misaki dreads coming home to Saruhiko, after long grueling hours of dealing with him in a cramped Jaeger.  He wonders if Misaki yearns to find new friends, if he circles around the base to find Totsuka, or Mikoto, or anyone new to talk to that isn’t Saruhiko._

_Saruhiko’s heart plummets;  he pictures all of the times Mikoto’s slapped Misaki’s on the back.  Misaki beamed up at him, and he’d gush about it for hours afterwards.  Misaki started dragging the both of them to Kusanagi’s bar, and Saruhiko felt perfectly comfortable lounging in the corner as Misaki laughed – loud and boisterous.  He loved watching Misaki fall to pieces after half a sip of vodka, and he loved Misaki’s warm body collapsing on him as he dragged him back to their dorm room after a long night._

_But now – Saruhiko’s heart stutters.  Totsuka’s words start to swim around his head.  Perhaps, all this time Saruhiko held Misaki back.  He wonders if Misaki crawls into bed, falls asleep at night cursing the day he ever became Saruhiko’s friend._

_Saruhiko shakes the thought from his head, that’s not possible._

_But still, the seed of doubt has been planted, and it simmers in his thoughts in the dead of the night._

“No!” Yata gasps, the memory swims again, and Yata reaches out, grasping for Saruhiko, “You idiot, it was never like that!”

 

He’s yanked into a different memory before he can reach out to touch him.

_“Isn’t he amazing?!” Misaki gasps.  He collapses onto his bed and kicks his feet into the air.  Saruhiko rolls his eyes. Misaki even squeals._

_“Reisi kinda sucks,” Misaki rolls himself into the covers and shudders, “But isn’t Mikoto the coolest?”_

_Saruhiko hums, he leans on an elbow and lazily types something into his keyboard.  He waits for Misaki to tumble onto the floor, crawl over to him, and then drape himself over Saruhiko’s shoulders and poke him until Saruhiko relents and shares the screen between them._

_Saruhiko turns his head slightly – Misaki doesn’t do that._

_He dreamily stares up at their ceiling with his arms stretched out and a goofy smile painting his face.  He shuts his eyes and he looks so serene like that; giggling about Mikoto instead of Saruhiko._

_Saruhiko scoffs, “What makes him so great anyways, we have a Jaeger too.”_

_Misaki shrugs, “Silverback is awesome –“_

_“Blossom,” Saruhiko snarks._

_“Silverback – “ Misaki presses, “Is awesome, but I mean, the way they move with Fire King, the way Mikoto moves her,” Misaki rolls around his covers again, “Do you think we’ll ever be that awesome?”_

_Saruhiko frowns, “Maybe.”_

_Misaki flops back on his pillow and releases another squeal.  “I want to be like that,” he mumbles into his pillow, “I want to be that amazing, and I want to do it with you by my side.”_

_Saruhiko’s heart flutters, despite Misaki’s suffocating obsession with Mikoto, there are rare times he says exactly the right words that curl around Saruhiko’s heart and squeeze it in a way that says, ‘you and I can take on this world together.’_

_“Well,” Saruhiko grins, “Obviously since you have me, we can do anything,”_

_Misaki rolls his eyes and throws a pillow at the back of Saruhiko’s head, when he turns back Misaki’s grinning at him; he starts to ramble about Mikoto again._

_He zones out the rest of Misaki’s musings, he lets him marvel in his own admiration until he falls asleep.  A bitter taste settles in Saruhiko’s mouth; it starts to make a home their every time Misaki rambles on about Mikoto – or any of his other newfound friends on the base._

_Saruhiko hates it; he hates Misaki saddling up to new people; new people who accept him so easily while Saruhiko sinks away into the background.  It unsettles him, it gnaws at his stomach and Saruhiko angrily clacks away at his computer.  He pauses every now and then to relish the sound of Misaki’s soft breathing resonating in the room – it calms him, still, to hear Misaki – his Misaki – fall asleep in his presence._

_Would he do that with Mikoto?_

_Saruhiko’s fingers twitch at the thought.  He feels his knives hidden in his clothes, he imagines whipping one straight at Mikoto, and almost relishes the thought of wet blood dripping down Mikoto’s forehead – he quickly shoves the thoughts away._

_Misaki would hate him._

_For a second – a fleeting thought crosses over his brain – what if Misaki will hate him anyway?_

“No!”  Yata tries to snatch Saruhiko by the shoulders, but his body doesn’t budge.  Saruhiko continues clacking away on his keyboard, and all of the painful emotions swallow Yata whole. “Stop!” he cries, smacking at Saruhiko to force him to listen, “It’s not like that, I don’t hate you – I would never hate you.”

 

Right when Yata sees the stoic, memory-version of Saruhiko start to turn his head – the memory warps again.

_“If you must leave,” Anna begins, “Then take this with you._

_She presses something against Saruhiko’s palm and squeezes it tightly, she wears a determined gaze and it causes shivers to course down Saruhiko’s spine._

_When he opens his fist later, he finds a single red marble that reveals Misaki’s beautiful eyes pressed against his palm._

 

 

 

The memory warps.

 

 

 

 

_“What the hell?”_

_Saruhiko lazily peers over his shoulder.  Tears well up in Misaki’s eyes;  he’s trembling and gripping his phone so tightly Saruhiko watches his knuckles turn white.  “What the hell?” He repeats;  Saruhiko forces himself to smirk, forces himself to ignore the tremor in Misaki’s voice and the sob hiking up his own throat._

_“I texted you,” He drawls._

_Misaki whips the phone against the concrete, and an angry scream crawls out of his throat.  With drooped eyes, Saruhiko watches the screen shatter, but the light still shines in the darkness._

_‘I’m leaving.’ he texted, ‘Don’t talk to me anymore.’_

_Saruhiko fixes the nose of his glasses and forces a sleazy grin onto his face, “Seriously Misaki, don’t you get it?”_

_“No!” Misaki snarls, he lunges forward and curls his hands into Saruhiko’s collar.  Saruhiko glares down the bridge of his nose; Misaki’s eyes burn with tears.  He speaks with his teeth clenched; his hands curl tighter into Saruhiko’s shirt such that the threads of fabric start ripping. “How could you do this to me?” Misaki snaps._

_Saruhiko yearns to wrap his arms around Misaki’s torso and shove Misaki’s nose into his chest.  He wants to feel the tickle of his breath just above his heart, he wants to feel him struggle against him until he relaxes with a drawn-out sigh and settles into the curve of Saruhiko’s body – exactly where he belongs._

_Saruhiko doesn’t do that._

_He leans back against the wall instead, he clicks his tongue and rips Misaki’s hand away from his neck.  He drops it like garbage and chuckles under his breath,  “Poor old Misaki, you depend on me so much, don’t you?  Well I’m sick of it, how am I ever gonna get anywhere in life if you cling to me? You’re holding me back.”_

_Misaki snarls, he curls his hand into a fist and Saruhiko waits for it to connect to his face._

_It doesn’t._

_Misaki slams his fist against the wall, instead.  A small trickle of blood glides down the crack between the bricks and Saruhiko hollowly watches the trickle grow into a stream that stems from Misaki’s newly torn knuckles.  “I don’t understand,” Misaki whispers, “What did I do wrong?”_

_Saruhiko forces down another sob, and all of a sudden, he regrets it.  His hands quiver in his pockets, and he itches to curl his fingers into the soft locks of Misaki’s hair and apologize.  He almost relents, almost keels over and drops his head into the crook of Misaki’s neck.  He almost collapses onto him, curls onto him and almost allows the tears to flow freely._

_He almost tells him.  All of his insecurities that pool at the base of his heart, the things that gnaw at him and pick at him and all of the things that pressure him to push Misaki away before Misaki does it himself._

_Saruhiko sighs, he gently grabs Misaki’s shoulder and squeezes.  It says ‘nothing, you did nothing wrong.’_

_Misaki’s eyes shoot up, “I just don’t understand – you’re leaving everyone.  Mikoto, Kusanagi, Anna, they all –“_

_Saruhiko stops listening._

_He still doesn’t understand._

_Saruhiko shoves him.  Misaki stumbles backward, tears still sting at the corner of his eyes.  Saruhiko looks down at a Misaki with a cracked heart._

_His own heart breaks knowing he’s the cause._

_But Saruhiko sees the ghost of Mikoto wrapping strong arms around Misaki’s shoulders.  He pictures Misaki crying into his chest, clinging to him with snot dribbling down his nose.  He’ll apologize for ruining his shirt;  Mikoto will hum and glide his fingers through Misaki’s soft hair and refuse the apology._

_Kusanagi will give him a shot, Anna will hold his hands.  Misaki will cry over him but he’ll have a family to pick up the pieces._

_And Saruhiko hates the green envy that settles in his heart.  His Misaki – the Misaki that shines brighter than the sun, wears his heart on his sleeve yet still finds the energy to smile big enough that Saruhiko’s heart aches just looking at him glow – his Misaki will forget him completely._

_He’ll fall into loving arms – not Saruhiko’s – he’ll make a new life, with new friends to love, and the smile Saruhiko yearns to create will grow even bigger for other people.  And Saruhiko will be forgotten; again – just like his father, Misaki will throw him away._

_Fushimi Saruhiko will_ not _be thrown away._

 

_“You only think of yourself.” Saruhiko snaps.  Misaki snarls but Saruhiko continues before he can speak.  “Did you ever think I hate Silverback?”  Saruhiko feels his black, bitter heart splitting in his chest.  But his twisted brain laughs – it laughs so loud and crazy as it watches Misaki shatter.  “I don’t want to pilot with you – I never wanted to pilot at all!”  Lies.  All of the lies.  “You were just so set on this stupid fantasy, and you had to take me with you.  I tried, but I just couldn’t do it anymore.”_

_Saruhiko watches Misaki – his Misaki – crumble at his mercy.  He hears the word leave his mouth, but they taste like ashes on his tongue.  He’s breaking him, tearing him in pieces and destroying him.  But he has too, Saruhiko has too._

_He will not be forgotten._

_“Do you really hate me that much?” Misaki whispers, in a broken voice with a sob climbing up his throat.  “That you have to leave?”_

_Saruhiko snorts, “It’s not that I hate you – you just became boring.”_

_Whatever thread Misaki clung to, whatever little hope his fragile little heart cherished snaps apart.  Misaki lunges and punches him in the face so hard Saruhiko tastes blood filling his mouth.  “Fuck you,” Misaki snarls, “You’re a real piece of shit.”_

_But Saruhiko’s not done._

_He’s his father’s son after all.  And his father finishes the job._

_Saruhiko laughs, “Yeah I am.”  He agrees, he lazily wipes the blood seeping through his nose.  “But you depend on me, it’s not only me – you’ll never ride Silverback again either, right? Because you need me so much.”_

_Misaki storms away and Saruhiko collapses in a dark alley and clutches his chest; it threatens to burst through his rib cage._

_He did it._

_He ruined him._

 

Yata rushes forward, he grasps at Saru’s shoulders.  He’s sobbing into his hands with blood trickling down his nose and when Yata grabs his face;  Saru looks broken.

 

He looks as if someone ripped his heart out of his chest and slashed it in two before his eyes.  “I made him hate me,” Saruhiko whimpers, he tries to shove Misaki’s hands from his face, tries to throw him away, but Yata won’t budge.

 

He won’t let this happen again.  “You didn’t.”  He snarls.

 

A small tinge of clarity returns to Saru’s blown-up pupils.  “Listen,” Yata continues, “You’re chasing a rabbit right now – we’re in Silverback ­­– both of us together.  Saru this isn’t real.  We’re friends okay? I’m still here, I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Saruhiko chokes on his own sobs, “I made him leave,” he whines, “I made him leave me.”

 

_“I fucking love you so I’m not going anywhere!”_

 

Yata screams at the top of his lungs, he screams loud enough he swears the Kaiju swimming beneath the depths of the ocean hear it, he swears he screams it so loud that Totsuka hears it through the drift, and Reisi and Mikoto and everyone hears it – but Yata _doesn’t care._

 

The memory spins like a tornado.

 

Yata gasps for breath; he tumbles back into Silverback staring at the beating sun and Fire King holding Boneface in a headlock.

 

“Saru?” Yata breathes

 

“I’m back.”  He whispers, his voice shakes and Saruhiko reaches a trembling hand towards Yata.  Yata snatches it and squeezes so hard he feels the bones grinding beneath his palms.  “I’m back,” Saruhiko whimpers.

 

“Good, you fucking idiot, now let’s go kick some Kaiju butt.”

 

“Right, yea let’s – “ Saru takes a moment to clear his head, “Wait. Did you just say – “

 

“To the Kaiju!” Yata clears his throat awkwardly, but the bright bloom of a blush still filters across the connection – and yea, he’s embarrassed, but he feels Saru’s _I love you, too_ dancing across the drift.

 

“We’re talking about this later,” Saru deadpans.

 

“Yea, how about we worry about that when we’re not about to become dinner for a pair of giant monsters,” Yata gripes back.

 

 **“Silverback – is Fushimi back? Some help would be appreciated right now.”** Reisi growls.

 

“Back,” Saru hisses over the com. 

 

Saru glances out the view stand – _Fire King_ has a fist lodged up Boneface’s throat, the creature shrieks and thrashes it’s claws into _Fire King’s_ metal.   Sparks fly from the joints and Boneface stomps into the ocean so hard it creates waves that slosh up against _Silverback’s_ chest plate. 

 

Killrain howls a blood-curdling scream as it rises.  **“Fuck!”** Mikoto cries.  _Fire King_ pulls back a fist, but the creature sinks it’s teeth into her joints and tears away the root that connects her hand. 

 

**“Shit – we’re – _fuck!_ ”  **

 

Killrain whips her tail and forces _Fire King_ to drop to her knees. 

 

 _Silverback_ leaps forward and headbutts Killrain.  She skids backward, and her claws scratch the ocean floor; she howls and charges for them – _Silverback_ stumbles but meets her head on locks her down. 

 

 **“Take Boneface down, now!”** Yata screams; caught in the throw with Killrain.  He feels the ribs crunching under his fist, now is the time. 

 

Reisi slams Boneface to the ocean floor, the water bubbles and frantic claws scratch at the surface; but Reisi pushes harder until bones crunch under his metallic fist. 

 

Killrain yowls at her sister’s pain; she flails in _Silverback’s_ death grip, but _Silverback_ doesn’t relent.  **“Fire King, go hold down Killrain and allow the boys to drift.”**

 

A shiver climbs up his spine, to his right Saru’s chest heaves up and down.  His fingers tremble and weakness pricks the drift – the rabbit drained him, Yata _knows_ it.  He feels the cold sweat sliding down Saru’s as if it were his own.  Yata swallows a shaky breath and disconnects the con to _Fire King._ He forces the drift to go eerily quiet; Saru snaps in his direction and Yata quickly forces the words out of his lungs before he chickens out, “Let me drift alone.”

 

“Are fucking _crazy?!_ ” Saruhiko screams. 

 

Yata slams his eyes shut, counts to ten under his breath, and forces them open again.  Saru’s _shaking_ – from a mix of anger and exhaustion and Yata _sees_ the color draining from his face bit by bit and he _has_ too.  “You have to trust me,” Yata says. 

 

“Misaki you could _die._ ” 

 

“We could _both_ die!” Yata snarls back, “You’re already weak from chasing the rabbit; and if you go in there like this – I don’t know what it’s going to do to you – you have to trust me!” 

 

The shrill ring of the com fills the con pad and Yata ends it before Saru has the chance to reconnect, “Saru _please.”_  He begs, tears well up in his eyes; they slide down his cheeks before Yata can stop them, and he doesn’t care how broken his voice sounds when he begs like this.  “Don’t you remember how scared you were when I almost died? Do you really want me to feel like that? _Please_ let me handle this.” 

 

Saru swallows, “We don’t know what will happen to you either,” he whispers. 

 

“Please don’t go in there,” Yata begs, “Saruhiko _please_.” 

 

The resolve crumbles from Saru’s face, “Promise me you’ll leave if you feel so much as a paper cut,”

 

Yata crosses his fingers behind his back, “I promise.” 

 

Saruhiko’s whole arm trembles – he reconnects the com.

 

 **“What the FUCK was that?!”** Totsuka shrieks, **“You can’t just disconnect like that, what the hell happened?”**

“Personal discussion,” Yata mumbles, “Okay if _Fire King_ can hold her down, we’re ready.”

 

 **“Save your personal discussion for the bedroom.”** Mikoto drawls, **“We’re in the middle of a job right now**.” 

 

 _Fire King_ simmers beneath the water – she lunges and winds her hand-less arm around Killrain’s throat in a headlock.  The Kaiju yelps and sloshes around in the water, _Fire King_ presses harder against the base of her throat until she can just breathe in the smallest bit of air – just enough to keep her alive. 

 

Yata raises _Silverback’s_ left fist.  Saru wears a helpless look, and he looks at Yata in a way that _begs_ him not to do this.  It actually makes a physical ache form in his chest, but Yata grunts and allows his thoughts to filter into the drift _I’m doing this regardless of what you say, so at least make it easier for both of us._

 

Saru shivers – Yata stabs the Pons directly into the Kaiju’s forehead and Killrain whimpers; weakened by the lack of oxygen.

 

 **“Okay.”**  Totsuka takes a shuddering breath – Yata hears the apprehension.  **“Okay _Silverback_ prepare to disconnect.  Please remember – when you come back, you have to reconnect the drift and the handshake by yourselves.  Don’t spend too much time in there – just get as much as you can and get out.  Don’t push yourselves, and _don’t_ do anything stupid.”**

“Yes sir!” 

 

 **“Okay….”** Totsuka shudders again, **“Disconnecting the drift…in 3…2…1”**

The drift drops and the emptiness surrounds them.  Saru gently disconnects the adhesives from his palms, he wears his emotions all over his face.  “Misaki _please_.” He begs. 

 

Yata grabs both of Saru’s hands, his heart beats in his throat – and fear settles deep in his chest, and he’s sure Saruhiko can feel it – but he wraps his smaller hands around Saru’s bigger ones – it looks a little ridiculous, honestly, but Yata likes it.  “Trust me.” He says. 

 

Saru pulls him into a hug and curls his fists into the back of Yata’s drift suit. 

 

Wrapped in Saruhiko’s arms – Yata initiates the drift. 

 

At first, it’s empty. 

 

Darkness surrounds him, and Yata experimentally opens his eyes a few times – but Saruhiko’s gone. He doesn’t feel his strong arms wrapped around his body anymore and Yata almost considers it a failure; he almost thinks he’s caught in an empty drift.  He sees bits of his own memory flitting by – but nothing of the Kaiju. 

 

Then, color bursts.  

 

Yata doesn’t know what’s happening.  He stands in the middle of a conveyor belt of some kind;  large splotches of red and orange dot the sky around him.  And in the center of it all, a ball of energy thrums like a heartbeat – it vibrates like a living creature, a huge ball of white fire that resembles the sun. 

 

Yet despite the glowing light that stems from the orb – the hues that paint the sky are dark.  There are splotches of color dotted in a pitch-black sky, and when Yata looks directly into them – his eyes _burn_. 

 

And next to him – Yata’s heart plummets.  Next to him stands a Kaiju. 

 

It’s not Killrain.  It’s not Boneface – it’s not a Kaiju he recognizes, and Yata’s stomach lurches in his throat. 

 

Somehow, within his connection to Killrain – Yata understands.  This isn’t a memory at all, this isn’t a normal drift – this is _real_. 

 

Yata is living through this. 

 

Yata’s throat closes up, his body starts to tremble, and his own thoughts start screaming.  Fear wraps around his heart; his stomach lurches and Yata can’t hold it in.  He falls to his knees and vomits at the foot of a monstrous Kaiju towering over him.  Yata can’t hear – his heart pounds in his ear drums and an insufferable sound rings in them. 

 

He screws his eyes shut, his stomach shakes violently – bile threatens to climb up his throat again.  Yata takes a careful breath through his nose; it smells rancid.  It reminds Yata of his school days, of the thick formaldehyde smell that surrounded cadavers for schoolwork.  And the memory of decaying bodies and hollow eyes glaring up at his thirteen-year-old-self force a dry sob to escape his throat. 

 

Yata opens his eyes and pierces his lips with his teeth until the metallic taste of blood fills his mouth.  It’s comforting – it’s a familiar taste, a familiar smell.  Yata wipes the blood onto his sleeve and presses it against his nose and forces his brain to quiet so he can swallow his surroundings. 

 

Yata thinks of Saru, he pictures Saru’s warm arms curling around his real-life body; it’s probably collapsed and Saru is probably ten times more scared than Yata.  It comforts him enough to look around.

 

The Kaiju he stands next to doesn’t notice him.

 

It doesn’t notice _anything_. 

 

The darkness makes it impossible to truly get a good look at anything, but after careful inspection Yata’s breath hitches in his throat – the Kaiju isn’t breathing. 

 

Yata gingerly turns around. 

 

The gasp that escapes his throat sounds a lot like a horrified sob. 

 

There are _millions_. 

 

Lines of Kaiju stand stock-still, and each splotch of orange and red color that rolls past them lights a spark in their eyes.   They don’t move, they don’t even _breathe_.  They all stand in some kind of nonsensical order Yata can’t understand – and then, far off into the distance he _sees_ it.

 

Yata’s heart leaps into his throat – it’s a category far beyond anything he’s ever _dreamed_ of.  It stands at least three times the height of _Silverback_ ,  with spikes crawling up it’s back and a dangerous set of fangs hanging from its snout.  Yata watches the color burst into its eyes as the splotches rotate around them – he doesn’t understand. 

 

Then something touches his shoulder, and Yata’s ripped away. 

 

He gasps, searing hot pain shoots down his spine; a scream climbs out of his throat and his blood is on _fire_.  It boils beneath his skin and it reminds Yata of the dropped drift with Kamamoto all over again. 

 

Yata yearns to claw at his own skin and he whirls his head around to shove off the offender. 

 

Yata _screams_. 

 

 _Something_ hisses back at him – it’s not a Kaiju.  It’s something about Saru’s height at most, with gross spindly legs and webbed fingers.  The creature bares it’s teeth at Yata and hisses something. It hisses louder until more of its kind start swarming around the Kaiju and the raw fear that climbs up Yata’s throat closes his airways. 

 

Yata’s lungs thirst for oxygen; but the small bursts of air he manages to suck in aren’t enough. His head feels heavy and his brain starts to fog over, he feels himself hyperventilating and the creature reaches a webbed hand towards his face, it bares it’s teeth at him and Yata slams his eyes shut and _prays_ to leave the drift. 

 

He doesn’t.

 

Yata opens his eyes in his own memories. 

 

It’s not like a rabbit, they swarm around them – that _thing_ latches to Yata’s arm.  His skin starts to blister in the creature’s grasp, and it keeps hissing at him.  It snarls, and dry sobs hike up Yata’s throat – he desperately claws at the thing with his free hand, the flesh tears away easily but the blood that peels away melts away at Yata’s skin.  Blood oozes out of his fingertips but the creature snaps backwards.

 

Yata crashes against a memory of him and Saru, lazily curling around each other in bed.  The thing hisses at him, it lunges for Saru and Yata snaps. 

 

He shoves at it, so the creature crashes into Saru’s empty bed instead.  “Don’t fucking touch him!” Yata snarls.

 

The thing doesn’t understand him, but it understands a threat.  It kicks out Yata’s legs, Yata bangs the back of his head against the bedpost.  The pain that throbs feels so _real_ ,  his vision blurs to black; Yata barely rolls off the bed to stop the creature from slicing his throat open with it’s disgusting teeth.

 

Then Yata notices.  The saliva that drips out of its mouth is the same radioactive blue as a Kaiju’s blood.

 

Yata rips one of the touch sensors from his right palm and slams it right where the creature’s heart would be if it were human. 

 

It _screams_. 

 

Yata’s memories fall around them, and new memories start to build themselves.

 

Memories of more _things_ hissing gathered around a table.  The creature Yata fights clutches its head and the hisses it releases sound more like ear-splitting shrieks.  It claws against his own skin; breaking it so more blood seeps out of it and the _screams_ make Yata want to rip his own ear drums out. 

 

But then the thoughts filter into his brain – and they’re in _Japanese_. 

 

_“Not fit for inhabitance.”_

_“We need to wait longer.”_

_“Clone the Kaiju and attack.”_

_“Hivemind. Hivemind. Hivemind. Protect the Hivemind.”_

_“Send it – send the beast.”_

 

The creature yowls and slices his own chest. 

 

As it dies, Yata’s thrown from the drift. 

 

But the _pain_.  The pain doesn’t go away.

 

“Misaki?” Yata looks up into Saruhiko’s face when the scream escapes his throat.  He can’t hold it in, the creature is bleeding out – somewhere in it’s own world, and Yata _feels_ it dying.  He feels it like his own blood drips out of his body one drop at a time, and someone’s scratching up his own intestines.  “Misaki, what’s happening? Talk to me, _talk to me!”_

Yata _can’t_.  Words won’t come out of his throat, he writhes in Saruhiko’s arms and the air he sucks in gets lodged in the base of his throat.  It’s _dying,_ Yata can feel it.  He feels it shredding it’s own skin, ripping away at it’s own flesh so that every sliver of pain it feels – they feel together. 

 

 _They’re sentient_. Yata realizes, and the creature still hears him – still feels his thoughts and it hurts himself _more_.  Yata feels his heart thundering in his chest, he wonders if he’ll die too.  _You’re sentient and you control the Kaiju, don’t you?_

 

“He’s having a seizure!”  Saru’s talking.  To Totsuka, but Yata allows the pain to consume him, he’s _getting_ somewhere. 

 

 _I’ll kill you._  The thing snarls over the falling drift.  _I’ll kill you and your whole planet, we will destroy you._  

 

Yata digs deeper.

 

 “Totsuka what do I do?!” Saruhiko cries. 

 

Yata sees millions of Kaiju, he sees them activating, he sees the giant sun that programs – that’s _it._  

 

It _programs_ them.

 

That’s what they need to destroy. 

 

An ear-splitting screech erupts out of Yata’s throat.

 

The creature is dead.

 

Yata’s body falls limp in Saruhiko’s arms.  

 

“Misaki?!”  Saruhiko shakes his limp body.  _“Misaki?!”_

 

**“Saruhiko what’s happening, you need to tell me what’s happening!”**

Saruhiko starts choking over his own sobs,  “I don’t know, I don’t know.  He was screaming – he was screaming like he was _dying_.  I don’t know what happened, _I don’t know._ ” 

 

Saruhiko clutches an unconscious Misaki against his chest and the sobs rattle in his chest, “I should’ve gone with him, I should’ve.”  He squeezes Misaki tighter against his body, the cries that climb out of his throat are dry.  There are no tears left in his eyes.  “It should’ve been _me.”_  Saruhiko whines, “It should’ve been _me._ ” 

 

 **“Saruhiko, I need you to pull yourself together.”**  Mikoto demands.  **“We don’t know if he’s dead, we don’t _know_. “  **

_“I should’ve gone with him._ ”  Saruhiko cries harder, black spots dot his own vision and he feels _helpless_.  “I shouldn’t have listened.” 

 

Saruhiko feels the ghost of Misaki’s shallow breath against his chest.  “Misaki?” Saruhiko breathes. 

 

Misaki opens his eyes for a soft moment before collapsing again. 

 

Saruhiko hears a deafening roar and feels the vibrations of the ocean floor at his feet. 

 

Boneface rises from the depths; she pounces onto _Fire King_.

 

 **“Fuck!”** Mikoto screams.  The impact forces them to drop Killrain, she yowls and simmers beneath the ocean to briefly shake off the damage; she pulls the wireless Pons from her forehead and smashes it against the ground and releases a deafening roar. 

 

**“Saruhiko, what’s happening, can you help them?”**

Saruhiko is frozen. 

 

He’s holding an unconscious Misaki in his arms while watching his friends die.

 

“I can’t do anything.” He whispers hollowly. “I’m helpless.”

 

 **“A Jaeger is flying at Mach speed from Osaka, please just hold it for 20 minutes,”** Totsuka begs.  **“Mikoto _please_.”  **

Mikoto scoffs over the com, **“You think I don’t have it in me?”**

 

 _Fire King_ hooks her arm around Killrain’s torso, she slams it into the water and it creates a giant wave that forces _Silverback_ to tilt drastically over the edge.  Saruhiko watches – he’s gripping Misaki’s limp body against his chest. 

 

Saruhiko considers it – drifting alone.  He squeezes Misaki tighter against his chest. _I’m not as strong as you, in the end_. 

 

“I’m loading the escape pods,” Saruhiko whispers, his head pounds against his skull.  “I have to leave her behind.” 

 

 **“Yeah.”**  Totsuka swallows.  **“Fire King, try to stay clear of Silverback.  We can pick up the remains afterwards.”**

Mikoto and Reisi offer a soft hum, but they don’t speak.  Saruhiko settles Misaki against his chest and loads the coordinates of the shatter dome.  Boneface lunges onto _Fire King’s_ back, but she throws him off expertly and the Kaiju screeches as she collapses into the water. 

 

Saruhiko launches the pod.

 

Killrain catches it from the corner of her eye.

 

She lunges for it. 

 

 ** _“No!”_ **  Mikoto shrieks. 

 

Mikoto’s desperate cry pushes Saruhiko to look out the window. 

 

Perhaps if Mikoto hadn’t spoken, Saruhiko wouldn’t have to see it.

 

If Mikoto had just done it silently, Saruhiko wouldn’t have known – he’d be as blissfully unaware as Misaki.

 

But even if Mikoto hadn’t said a word, Reisi’s shattering scream would give it away.

 

Saruhiko helplessly watches _Fire King_ shove Killrain clear from her path.  But from behind – Boneface slashes her claws down the right side.  She slices through the middle and steals half of the view stand.  She rips it cleanly in half; and Saruhiko _knows_ Mikoto was in that half.

 

Saruhiko wonders if in any of the red metal that dribbles into the ocean is bits Mikoto’s vibrant red hair, if any of it is his blood.  He watches the Kaiju tear the chunk of metal, the sound of claws scratching against steel mixed with Reisi’s broken screams will follow him to his nightmares.

 

Saruhiko has _never_ heard Reisi scream before. 

 

But Reisi _howls_.  The Kaiju howls too, and the metal that falls into the ocean creates crashing waves that wash away the remnants of Mikoto’s body.

 

They won’t even have the _body._

 

Reisi howls until his lungs give out, and Saruhiko can’t tell if it’s from the cracked drift, or his cracked heart. 

 

When the escape pod lands in the shatter dome – Totsuka finds Yata and Saruhiko, both passed out. 

 

One of them with burn marks all over his skin.

 

The other with tear stains dried on his cheeks. 

 

It’s fitting – Totsuka thinks – that Saruhiko is the first to cry over Mikoto’s death.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yata wakes up multiple times.

 

He screams every time he does.

 

It cracks Saruhiko’s heart apart, piece by piece.

 

Totsuka threatens him – but Saruhiko yanks the IV drip from his own veins, he crawls into Misaki’s bed and cradles his face against his chest.  Misaki shakes against him, fresh tears spill from his eyes and he whimpers against Saruhiko’s stomach. Misaki keeps chanting _he’s dying_ and _it hurts_ over and over and it _kills_ Saruhiko on the inside. 

 

He feels useless. 

 

Saruhiko’s not strictly on bedrest like Misaki – he’s allowed to roam freely. When staring at Misaki’s limp body settles too heavy into his heart, he wanders up to Reisi’s locked door and listens to the eerie silence that lingers there.

 

Saruhiko went to visit him – the first night.  Misaki didn’t wake up at all, and the deafening silence clawed too much at Saruhiko – so he visited Reisi. 

 

Reisi’s harsh screams were punctuated with sobs, his repeated chants of _he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead_ made it so much worse. 

 

Saruhiko feels thirteen again, locked in his bedroom and carefully counting his father’s footsteps while reading stories of abused children that have mauled faces and trauma that follows them as heavy baggage looming over their heads.  It felt like his verbally abusive father was a blessing, in front of that.

 

And Saruhiko feels like that again,  his nightmare-prone, screaming Misaki is a blessing compared to a dead Mikoto. 

 

But Saruhiko feels something _else._  Something hidden in the deepest part of his heart, unaffected by Misaki or his father or anyone.

 

 _You can feel guilt, can’t you?  That’s why you’re not your father_. 

 

Saruhiko wonders, if maybe he had waited – or maybe he had pulled the escape pod earlier, then _maybe_ Mikoto would still be alive.

 

Saruhiko wanders into Kusanagi’s bar, clad in a backless hospital gown and pulling around an IV pole. 

 

“I’m not serving drinks to a patient,” Kusanagi warns. 

 

“I didn’t want any,” Saruhiko clicks his tongue.  He still maneuvers the IV around Kusanagi’s bar stools and gingerly settles down into one of them.  They sit in silence, and Kusanagi places a vodka glass filled with water in front of him.  He pours a shot of whiskey for himself and sips it softly. 

 

“Yata-chan still not doing well?”

 

Saruhiko swallows, “He hasn’t woken up fully, he only wakes up to nightmares – whatever he _saw_ in there – “ Saruhiko shivers.  That’s another thing to be guilty about. 

 

Kusanagi swishes the whiskey around in his mouth.  “And Reisi?”

 

“Even worse.” Saruhiko mumbles. 

 

Kusanagi sighs, a torn smile touches his lips and he runs his fingers through his hair.  “I’m sorry. I’m not going to be giving any life-changing advice today,” 

 

Saruhiko clicks his tongue – but acid climbs up his throat.  He has no one to turn to; no one has anyone.  Mikoto’s death leaves them all shaken to the core.  And Saruhiko never truly _liked_ anyone, but he yearns to talk to _someone._    Saruhiko’s never felt this before, the deep desire for someone to pat him on the back and say _It’s not your fault.  You don’t have to feel guilty._

“He was a good man,” Saruhiko whispers, he swirls the ice in his water. 

 

“He was upset when you left,” Kusanagi takes a long drag from his cigarette.  “You may think it only broke Yata, but it broke all of us you know.”

 

Saruhiko squeezes his water glass a little bit tighter. 

 

“I had hoped that one day, when I had to retire from this, you would take my place as the calm mind here.  Someone to gather up all the rowdy children and keep them sane,”

 

“I’m sorry,” Saruhiko whispers; the words taste like ash on his tongue, but he _means_ them. He truly _means_ them. 

 

Kusanagi sighs and takes a slow sip from his whiskey. “Did you enjoy yourself, in Germany?” 

 

Saruhiko lowers his gaze and watches the ice melt in his water.  “Not really,”

 

Kusanagi furrows his eyebrows, “I would’ve thought it would be an interesting place for a brain like yours,”

 

Saruhiko squeezes his eyes shut, and just under his breath, he says “I missed you.” 

 

Kusanagi’s lips twitch, “Missed _me?_ Or Yata?”

 

A small lump settles in Saruhiko’s throat, “All of you.” He says clearly. 

 

“Ah, so do you get it now?” Kusanagi smiles at him. 

 

Saruhiko fidgets, “A little bit.  Anna…visits me a lot, and so does Totsuka…and you, and a lot of the crew.” 

 

Kusanagi smirks, “No one ever disliked you,”

 

“I _knew_ that!” Saruhiko snarls, “But it’s – “

 

“We all _wanted_ you to stay, Saruhiko.”  Kusanagi says.  He reaches over the bar and ruffles his fingers through Saruhiko’s hair. Kusanagi keeps his hand there, Saruhiko shoves a fist halfway in his mouth to disguise the choked sobs that climb up his throat.  They rattle him down to his bones, and Kusanagi only softly refills his barely-sipped water soundlessly. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Saruhiko chokes again, “I’m _sorry_.” 

 

“You’re our family, too.  Just like Yata, you’re a piece of us.” Kusanagi whispers. 

 

Saruhiko folds his face into his hands and the tears keep falling.  Kusanagi gently rubs his back until the sobs die down to soft hiccups.   

 

“Did you...visit Reisi at all?”  Saruhiko swallows.

 

Kusanagi shivers, he actually _shivers_.  The thing that terrifies Saruhiko the most is that everyone crumbles.  Anyone Saruhiko looks at in the base greets him with hollow eyes and a shattered heart; it’s horrifying. 

 

And all of this; all of this was _his_ idea. 

 

He doesn’t tell Kusanagi it’s his fault; he fears hearing the words _Yea, it is._  

 

“I did a few times,” Kusanagi tears him from his thoughts. “He’s…” Kusanagi shudders, “He’s not quite himself.” 

 

“It’s supposed to feel like a part of you is dead,” Saruhiko mumbles, he takes a careful sip from his water – it does nothing to soothe the dryness in his scratchy throat.  Saruhiko remembers Yata’s pain seeping over his bones in their ghost drift, remembers Yata’s cries of pain, Yata’s wish for _death._  Saruhiko wonders what Mikoto’s final moments felt like – if Reisi felt him die. 

 

The thought makes his stomach churn and Saruhiko almost pukes. 

 

“They had a strong drift,” Kusanagi sighs, he takes a swig out of his whiskey glass. “I imagine it must feel empty,” 

 

Saruhiko sighs and rests his head on his elbows, he watches the condensation slip down the sides of his water glasses and closes his eyes.  “I imagine so,” he whispers.  Saruhiko can’t put himself in Reisi’s shoes.  Even the fleeting though of Yata’s _death_ sends a shiver hiking up his spine and bile rising in his throat. 

 

“It’s scary,” Kusanagi continues, swirling the liquid poison in his glass, “Isn’t it? Reisi is a strong man, rarely broken by anything.”

 

Saruhiko swallows, “Isn’t it hard _not_ to break when you feel someone ripping apart and dying in your brain?” 

 

Kusanagi laughs lightly, but it’s hollow. “Have you ever been to a memorial?” He asks instead.

 

Saruhiko’s heart lodges in his throat, he remembers his father’s dead body withering away in a hospital bed.  He remembers the missed calls from his mother, he remembers clutching his heart and feeling pain surging through his veins even though he _hated_ that man.  “No,” Saruhiko whispers, “No one’s died for me to want to,”

 

Kusanagi doesn’t mention his father.  “Are you going to go to Mikoto’s? It’s – well we’re going to do it after Yata wakes up, I mean there’s no rush so,”

 

Saruhiko imagines Mikoto’s lifeless body torn in pieces sinking to the bottom of the ocean, and the empty casket they’ll bury, and it burns in his lungs. 

 

“Sure,” Saruhiko whispers, “I’ll come.” 

 

And, surprisingly, Saruhiko wants to go for himself – not Misaki.

 

He’s lost a piece of his family after all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yata wakes up screaming – it rips out of his dry throat. 

 

The dryness sends a searing pain scorching down his vocal chords, Yata heaves out a dry cough and immediately throws his hands to grasp his burning throat.  Then, he notices bandages. Yata swallows, his arms and legs are wrapped in antiseptic gauze down to the tips of fingers and toes.  His head pounds against his skull, and his throat _burns_.  

 

Yata swallows a dry lump and shivers beneath the woolen blankets. 

 

Saru slams the door open.  “Misaki?!” 

 

Yata forces his lips to move, “Hi.”  The word makes his throat itch, and it sounds pathetically hoarse.  “Can I…” Yata uses the un-bandaged webs of his fingers to massage the bottom of his throat, but it does no good, “…water?” he whispers.

 

Saru stumbles towards the night table.  He’s dressed in a stark white hospital gown, and one of his arms is looped around a moveable IV pole and Yata’s heart sinks.  “Are you – “ he coughs over the words and Saru pins him with a stern glare, “ – okay?” Yata finishes. 

 

Saru’s hands tremble as he pours warm water from a tea kettle into a porcelain mug and gently places it in Yata’s hands.  “You have to drink it warm, it’ll soothe your throat.”

 

Yata gingerly takes a sip, and the heat sizzles out a small amount of the pain and he sighs in relief.  “Thank you,” he whispers to avoid straining his voice. “Answer me,”

 

Saru scoffs, “Better than you, clearly.” 

 

Yata winces and tosses off the wool blankets.  The hospital gown bunches up around his thighs, and thick gauze wrap his legs from the knees down.  If he shuffles, he feels bandages wrapped tightly around his torso, and around his arms.  He swallows, “It….it really burned me,” he muses.

 

Saru glares daggers into his soul and the intensity of it all makes Yata shiver, “You felt it?”

 

Yata squirms, “In the drift, yea.” 

 

“You have nightmares because of it, you keep waking up screaming.” Saru lowers his head so Yata can’t read his face, but Yata watches him curl his fists into the wool blankets until his knuckles turn white. 

 

Yata watches the steam curl out his mug and wears a thoughtful expression, “I don’t really remember them,” he mumbles.  “How long have I been asleep?”

 

“You’ve been _unconscious.”_ Saru snarls, “For about three days,”  

Yata swallows, “How about Mikoto and Reisi?”

 

Saru stiffens.  Yata watches his shoulders tense and his fists curl tighter into the sheets.  Saru opens his mouth several times, unsure of the words to choose – and Yata’s heart plummets into his stomach.  “Misaki – Mikoto is dead.” 

 

Yata gags and dry heaves before he can stop himself.  Saru quickly tries to shove a garbage can in his direction but Yata shoves it away.  Yata squeezes the fabric over his chest and for a moment it feels like he can’t _breathe_.  His burn marks suddenly mean nothing, all the pain surging in his head means _nothing_.  “H-How?” Yata begs.

 

Saru doesn’t look at him.  “You passed out; and I had to take us both out of there.  Reisi and Mikoto tried to hold them back but – “ Saru shudders and takes a shaky both,  “One of the Kaiju ripped Mikoto’s half straight out of the Jaeger.” 

 

Misaki hisses under his breath, his eyes feel wet – but his body still too dry to let the tears fall.  “And…and Munakata?” 

 

Saru fidgets, “A team in Osaka swooped in to stop the Kaiju, so Munakata managed to escape. He’s alive but he’s – “ Saru pictures Reisi’s harsh screams bouncing across the walls of a dead-silent hospital.  He remembers him thrashing against the paramedics that dragged him down,  he remembers his thick, terror-laced screams and his _begging_ for Mikoto.  “He’s not doing so well.” 

 

Yata squeezes his blanket in his fists.  “And…and _Silverback?”_

 

Saruhiko shrugs, “They sent in some helicopters to go rescue her after the Kaiju were brought down, she’s in the shatter dome right now still undergoing repairs.”

 

Saruhiko watches Yata’s head droop, he looks between his palms and Saruhiko runs his fingers through his hair. 

 

They say, “I’m sorry,” scarily in sync.

 

Yata blinks, “What are _you_ sorry for?” 

 

Saruhiko allows his bangs to cover his eyes, he curls his hands into the flesh of his thighs and Yata hears the quiver in his voice. “It’s my fault,” Saru whimpers.

 

_“What?”_

 

Saru shivers and sucks in a shaky breath, “It’s my fault Mikoto’s dead,” he says clearly. 

 

Yata opens and closes his mouth several times, he wraps his brain around the words and growls, “It’s _not.”_

 

Saru sadly shakes his head, “It _is._ ”  He holds his face in his hands, Yata watches him suck in a shaky breath, and tears threaten to spill from his eyes.

 

Yata sighs, “What on earth could you have done to make it your fault?”

 

Saru whimpers, “I could have piloted her – _you_ did it alone, but I was selfish,”

 

Yata traces the lines on the hospital bed, “We already established that I technically _didn’t_ do it alone,” 

 

“If I had waited to launch the escape pod – “

 

“You would have risked our own lives.”

 

“If I hadn’t listened and drifted with you – “

 

“We both would have passed out in _Silverback_ , and we would be both be dead.” 

 

“If I had – “

 

“Are those all your arguments?” Yata snaps, Saru flinches and glances up at him with watery eyes.  “If all of your arguments start that way, then you don’t have a valid one.” Yata angrily crosses his arms over his chest. 

 

“He’s dead, Misaki.  He’s _dead_.”  Saru whispers, “And if I had just done something differently, then maybe – “

 

“You’re not your father, Saruhiko.”  Yata says softly.  Saru shivers at the sound of his full name.  “No one’s going to hate you for what you did.”

 

“I was selfish!” Saru cries, “I knew that they couldn’t take down two Kaiju at once, I _knew_ it! But I still left them! It’s a miracle even Reisi is alive right now; I didn’t even – “

 

“And does that mean _you’d_ rather be in Mikoto’s place?” Yata snarls.  Saru’s words die in his throat, “Would you want _me_ to be in Munakata’s?”

 

“No,” Saru snaps back, “No but if I had just _stayed,”_

“You couldn’t do anything,” Yata whimpers, he squeezes his hands into his blankets. “And we’re all thinking those things right now – I’m sure of it.  Everyone’s thinking of a million what ifs right now, but it’s no one’s fault.  And if Mikoto could hear you saying this right now, he’d smack the shit out of you.”

 

“Why are you so calm?” Saru snaps finally, “You admired him to death, and now he’s _dead_.” 

 

Yata twirls his fingers together, “I did.” He agrees, “And I…” he takes a shuddering breath, “I’m internally a mess right now.  But I’m not gonna let you convince yourself it’s somehow your fault,” 

 

Saru hunches his shoulders, “Everyone’s falling apart,” he mumbles.  “The whole base is a complete wreck, there’s already more Kaiju threatening to break through, the world is ending at our feet, Misaki.  And we can’t do a thing to stop it,” 

 

Yata gently removes the covers from his thighs.  His heart pounds in his throat, but he crawls to Saru.  His fingers shake, but Yata grabs Saru’s face into his hands, slams his eyes shut and kisses him.

 

It’s really just a peck, just a quick press of lips like his mother would give when he scraped his knees.  “What was that?” Saru whispers, brown pupils blown wide and staring into Yata’s eyes.

 

“Whatever you want it to be,” Yata smirks.  “If the world is ending, then we’re going to do everything we can to save it.  I’m going to talk to Anna, we’re going to figure out what drifting with that Kaiju meant – and we’re not going to let Mikoto die in vain, got that?” He lightly bops a fist on top of Saru’s head.

 

“You kissed me.” Saru deadpans. 

 

Yata’s cheeks redden, he’s still leaning on his knees with Saru’s face enclosed in his hands.  “Yeah,” he says firmly.  With the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Yata forces himself to continue, “I mean you can do with that information what you want – but I like you, so you’re just gonna have to deal with that.”

 

Saru’s lips twitch into a smile, “What a crass confession,”

 

“You’re an asshole,” Yata lightly runs his fingers under Saru’s eyes to wipe away the wetness, “You don’t deserve anything fancy,”

 

Saru arches an eyebrow, “So that’s what you meant when you said, ‘you loved me’?” 

 

Yata’s cheeks blaze and he shoves Saru in the chest. “S-Shut up!” he snaps. 

 

Saru snatches his hand and holds it in place just above his heart, Saru’s pupils have blown wide, and those striking brown eyes gaze up at him.  “I can do what I want?” he whispers, repeating Yata’s words. 

“Sure,” Yata swallows down the lump in his throat, Saru’s eyes make heat pool into the pit of his stomach, and the warmth spreads all over Yata’s body.  Saru’s hand looks much bigger holding Yata’s small one against his heart – and with his hand pressed there, Yata feels Saru’s heart thundering against his palm. 

 

Saru snakes an arm around Yata’s waist and pushes their chests together.  He stands up and presses his face into the crown of Yata’s hair and he just inhales.  Yata senses his chest rise – pressed tightly against his – and he wraps his arms around Saruhiko and nuzzles his nose into the crook of his neck. 

 

For a long time, they don’t move.

 

A pleasant heat settles; Yata fits against Saruhiko like he belongs there. 

 

Yata pulls away and pushes forward to capture Saru’s mouth into a kiss.  He nips at his lips and relishes the pleased moan that Saru releases; Yata smiles against his mouth, and only breaks away to inhale air heavily mixed with Saru’s scent.  It messes with his head; his ears ring and his vision feels hazy, but when Saru pulls his lips back into a bruising kiss – Yata lets him.

 

Saru nibbles at Yata’s mouth; Yata giggles against it, but ultimately allows Saru to press his tongue into his mouth and explore.  Yata lets his eyes flutter shut and leans his weight against Saru, his strong hands squeeze the stark white fabric of the hospital gown and Saru presses Yata impossibly closer, as if trying to taste every inch Yata will allow. 

 

Yata would allow him the heavens if he could. 

 

Saru impatiently presses them back against the mattress, he crawls on top of Yata and stars pressing small pecks against the nape of his neck.  Yata can’t help it,  he arches off the bed with a soft gasp escaping his throat, he knocks their hips together and Saru’s whole body shudders above him.  “Don’t do that,” Saru mumbles against the crook of his neck so Yata feels his warm breath seeping into his skin. 

 

“I can’t help it,” Yata snaps back.

 

Saru’s lips stretch into a smile, he sucks at the hollow of Yata’s throat and a startled gasp erupts from Yata’s throat.  Yata twists his hands into the fabric of Saru’s hospital gown and growls, “You’re doing it on purpose asshole,” he grumbles. 

 

Saru laughs and pulls Yata’s lips into a kiss again, Yata relaxes into it.  “You’re just too much fun to mess with,” Saru chuckles. 

 

Saru presses Yata deeper into the mattress, he maneuvers his hand beneath the hospital gown and runs the pads of his muscles over the small bits of exposed muscles beyond the bandages and Yata cries out before he can stop it, _“Saru!”_

Saru grins, “You’re so sensitive, _Misaki.”_

 

“You’re such an mph –“  Yata hisses when Saru softly peels away the hospital gown from his torso and nuzzles his face against Yata’s bare stomach.  “ – asshole,” Yata mumbles lamely.  Saru laughs against his skin, and places sloppy kisses running down his abdomen.

 

The other thing about the hospital gown – he’s bare underneath.  Bandages line his arms, legs  and the upper half of his torso – but Yata is otherwise naked.  He wrinkles his nose, “Oi,” Yata pushes himself up onto his elbows and yanks Saru’s face back to press a rough kiss against his lips.  Saru releases a startled gasp, but dutifully allows Yata to explore his mouth.  “No fair,” Yata hisses against his lips – he distracts Saru by nibbling on his bottom lip and swiping his tongue along the roof of his mouth. 

 

This time, Saru arches his back, and Yata snags the opportunity to untie the back of his hospital gown so they’re on equal footing.  It pools at Saru’s feet and Yata smirks up at the red tinge that climbs into Saru’s cheeks.  “We shouldn’t even be doing this in a hospital ward,” Saru hisses – but he contradicts himself and presses Yata against his chest.  Yata’s thighs quiver at the warmth that surrounds him – he’s already hard.

 

But judging by the pressure against his thigh – he’s not the only one. 

 

“It’s a little too late to play by the rules,” Yata chuckles,  “But it would be pretty bad if we were to get caught,” Yata relents. 

 

Saru frowns, “Let’s just…let me do something,” 

 

Yata starts to question it, but the words morph into a heady moan when Saru gently palms his erection splayed out against his stomach.  Yata’s vision flashes white for a moment, and when his muddled brain forms coherent thoughts, he realizes Saru’s grinning down at him, “I thought you’d like that,” he smirks.

 

“I’m a _guy,_ ” Yata hisses, “Of course I’d like it.” 

 

“Then…” Saru peers down at him through his long lashes, “Want me to help you?” 

 

Yata swallows the lump in his throat, “You…if you…if you want to,” 

 

Saru cups him and leans down to press their foreheads together, “Yeah, I want to.” 

 

Yata shivers, his breath fans out over Saru’s face.  Saru starts pumping at an agonizingly slow pace, Yata bites down a whine, “Don’t be a jerk,” Yata grumbles, he nips at Saru’s nose. “Do it _properly_.” 

 

Saru grins down at him and connects their lips together, he holds Yata in a kiss and starts thrusting faster.  Yata moans into Saru’s mouth, and the fear of getting caught washes from his head.  Saru’s slender fingers wrapped around him send a whole surge of ecstasy coursing through his veins, and Yata feels so warm, so _loved_ that the sensation overwhelms him.

 

His hips arch up and Saru presses his own torso down and the friction of Saru’s hand, along with his body pressed against him sends Yata into bliss. _“Saru,”_ he whimpers – Yata can’t form coherent thoughts anymore, “I-I’m gonna – “ he hisses as those talented fingers swipe the tip, and Yata’s toes curl into the sheet, “S-Seriously I’m gonna – “

 

“Do it,” Saru demands, “ _Do it_.” 

 

Yata’s vision blurs to a flash of white, and the only word to tumble out of his lips is Saru’s name. 

 

And that image – Misaki’s face painted with pure bliss, Misaki pressed into his arms, Misaki completely baring himself before Saruhiko.

 

Well, that pushes Saru over the edge too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, in the end, I decided to post it early. It’s also….like 4 times bigger than a nomral chapter? Probabaly going on 5 times. I was very very close to splitting this up, becasue it is MASSIVE, but I just didn’t have the heart for that. It's also unedited, i sent my editor the wrong doc so she wasn't able to get it back in time ...she did get some interesting notes from "chap 8" of my undergrad anatomy textbook tho 
> 
> On another note, this is my first (very sad) attempt at smut, so please forgive that whole fiasco, nevvver thought I’d actually ever have the confidence to do this
> 
> And now, as I’m about to get on a plane, enjoy some free almost-sex with an early update


	9. ix

_Saruhiko lands in Germany with a bitter taste on his tongue._

_“Hello!”_

_Someone jumps at him and loops an arm over his shoulder – Saruhiko doesn’t waste time shoving them off.  It’s a man; he has striking silver hair and he beams down at Saruhiko as if he holds the key to the universe in his palm.  “I’m Adolf K. Weissman, you’re Fushimi – correct?”_

_Saruhiko sneers and turns his head, “Yes.” He says curtly._

_The man walks by his side, wearing a serene smile that makes Saruhiko sick to his stomach.  It reminds him too much of Totsuka.  “I know you’ve left a lot behind Fushimi-san, I hope you find your time here worthwhile before you head home,”_

_Fushimi grunts, “Who said I’m ever going back?” He glances up and catches a small cat nipping at the man’s long hair; the cat rolls her eyes at him and it reminds Saruhiko strikingly of Anna._

_“No one did, but if you so choose to – I hope you like it here anyways,” the man winks at him, “I hope you find something useful to take back with you.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yata gingerly opens the door to Anna’s headquarters; his fingers intertwine with Saru’s and the sweat accumulates between their palms.  Yata’s heart whimpers, the room feels a lot emptier than last time.  “Misaki, Saruhiko.” Anna greets them softly.

 

Kusanagi sits to her right – in Mikoto’s place – and Totsuka to her left.  Silence swallows the room; the sadness of Mikoto’s death lingers over their heads, and the tension feels thick enough to slice with a knife. 

 

“We have to talk,” Kusanagi breaks the silence, “About your drift.”

 

Saru squeezes his palm and gently kneads Yata’s knuckles with the pad of his thumb.  It’s Saru way of saying _I’m here for you._  

 

“It’s…” Yata grimaces, “…not an easy thing to talk about,” 

 

Kusanagi frowns, “I understand that, but we – “

 

“No, no!” Yata drops Saruhiko’s hand and scratches the back of his neck. “I mean yeah it sucked a lot, and it was some scary shit I never wanna see again – but it’s just…really hard to explain.”

 

Kusanagi arches an eyebrow, “You’re gonna have to try,”

 

Yata wrinkles his nose, Saru reaches for his hand again and Yata lets him draw circles on his palm; it soothes him.  “It…there are a lot of Kaiju,” Yata mumbles lamely. 

 

Everyone waits with bated breath for him to continue.  “And…” Yata bites his lip, “There’s uh…there’s a really _big_ Kaiju.” 

 

Kusanagi sighs, “Yata. You’re going to need to be more helpful.” 

 

“I’m trying!” He snaps, “It’s just…I don’t really know what I saw, or what to make sense of.  I’m telling you like it is – there were lines of them, millions of them, but they weren’t _alive_.” 

 

Saru blinks, “You mean they were all dead?” 

 

Yata shakes his head, “More like…like…”

 

“Inactivated.” Totsuka whispers.  “As in they’re waiting to be sent out to attack us, lines of them.” 

 

“Yea.” Yata whispers.  “Exactly.” 

 

Bitter silence engulfs them, Yata picks at the skin around his thumbs and only stops when Saru smacks his hand away.  “There’s also…” Yata swallows a shaky breath, “A really big one – I meant that.  It’s _huge_. It’s gotta be at least three times the size of _Silverback_ , and they’re planning to release it.” Yata spits it all out with his heart roaring in his ears.

 

“Wait…” Saru frowns, “Who’s ‘they’?”

 

“The Kaiju aren’t our enemy.”  Yata mumbles.

 

“Misaki,” Anna demands; her fingers tremble around the marbles held tightly in her palms, “Did you _see_?”  Anna’s staring at him with wide eyes. 

 

“Anna.” Kusanagi frowns, “Do you know something?”

 

Anna shakes her head, “I can’t _see_.” She whines, “Something is there, not the Kaiju, but _something_. I can’t see it,”  She watches Yata with watery eyes, Yata blindly reaches to squeeze Saru’s palm and the warmth that blooms in his chest acts as small comfort.

 

“I did, I think.” He whispers. 

 

Anna’s marbles crash to the table.

 

“I.” Yata’s heart murmurs, “I can’t really – “

 

Yata’s head starts to pound, he rips his hand away from Saru and clutches his head in his hands and a moan of pain tumbles from his lips.  He hears voices swimming around his ears, a chair falls somewhere, someone starts to rub his back; Yata counts backwards from one hundred and focuses on Saru’s slender fingers squeezing his shoulder blades until he comes back.  

 

“I have to be careful,” he whispers, “I’m connected to them – if I think about it too hard, they _know_.” 

 

“Yata, you’re making zero sense right now,” Totsuka mumbles.

 

Yata sighs and tosses him a helpless look.  “I _know.”_  His brain pricks with pain again, Yata hisses but shoves it aside, “I know but it’s…it’s difficult, I’m trying to get around it because there’s so much I want to tell you.”  

 

Totsuka’s frown deepens, “How long have you been experiencing this?” 

 

Yata glances down to his fingers, unable to meet anyone in the eyes. “Since I first woke up,” he mumbles.

 

Saru blinks, “You mean in the hospital room? When I gave you water?”

 

Yata doesn’t speak.

Saru drops his hands, “Misaki?”

 

“I…I woke up a little bit after I passed out – in the hospital room,” he whimpers.  “You were still passed out and I was fine for a little bit.” Yata swallows a breath, everyone’s glaring at him, “I thought about telling you – “ His head starts to sear with pain again, he bites his cheek and forces through it, “And then it happened – they’re connected to my brain.” Tears start to leak from his eyes.

 

“And anything I think about saying, about revealing _them_ to you, it _hurts_. When I drifted with them, it connected me to a hivemind and I’m still connected to it – they can see anything I think, and so can I, if I try.  I don’t know how they’re doing it – but they make me _hurt_.” Yata ends with a harsh gasp and wraps his arms around his ribs; he coughs for breath.  Saru drapes an arm around his waist and pulls him against his side, Yata leans onto his chest inhaling Saru’s deep-rooted scent and the ache in his head dulls slightly.

 

“So, we have a solution,” Kusanagi sighs, “But we can’t use it.”

 

“I think if I talk fast enough –“ Yata starts.

 

“We’re _not_ hurting you.” Totsuka slams his palms on the table. “There has to be a better way,”

 

Saru furrows his eyebrows, “But you’re telling us, aren’t you? Little by little, but you’re telling us?”

 

“If I can distract myself, it takes them longer to realize.” Yata muses.  “I’ve been biting my lips, picking at skin, just anything. But it only works for so long.”

 

Saru bites his lip, “Do you trust me?”

 

“Saruhiko.” Anna whispers.  Saru fidgets under Anna’s glare.

 

“Of course,” Yata swallows. 

 

Saru slowly pulls a knife out of his sleeve. “If pain distracts you, then I think I have an idea.” 

 

Yata whole-heartedly agrees.  Saru’s fingers still tremble around the knife.

 

“There has to be a different way,” Totsuka frowns, “This can’t be the only way.”

 

“Do you think we have time?” Yata frowns, his head starts to burn again, and he holds his breath and speaks quickly. “They’re coming fast, I _saw_ it.” 

 

It doesn’t hurt when he says it.  Those little fuckers _want_ everyone to know their coming.  Yata snarls at the thought.

“It pains me to admit,” Kusanagi frowns, “But Yata is right, we’re short on time.”

 

“Misaki.” Anna frowns deeper.  “I don’t like them,” Yata chuckles but Anna insistently continues. “I’ve never felt anything like them before; even the Kaiju have souls for me to find.  But they do not – I cannot find them, I cannot see them.  I don’t like it.”

 

Yata grins, “Well then I’ll find ‘em for you, and I’ll figure out how to destroy them.”

 

“Misaki.” Anna tugs helplessly on his sleeve.

 

Saru closes his hand around Anna’s on Yata’s wrist.  He leans over so his chest is pressed against Yata’s back and Yata feels the ghost of his breath on his cheek.  “I won’t let anything hurt him,” Saru whispers.  “Never again.”

 

Yata rolls his eyes, he starts a snarky response when Saru stabs him straight in the palm.

 

The first thing to escape Yata’s mouth is a harsh gasp.  Pain blooms in the base of his palm, and a thick stream of blood starts to trickle down the lines of his hand. “Start talking!” Saru hisses at him. 

 

Yata lets the feeling in his hand consume him, “There’s some species behind all the Kaiju, they program the Kaiju with some big magical ball of fire.  I don’t know how it works – but they look at it and it tells them what to do.”  Yata feels a dull ache forming in the back of his head, he stares at the dark red blood seeping from his hands and sucks in a deep breath and holds it there until the pain in his skull stops.

 

“That species are as tall as humans, but they’re spindly and gross-looking.  It burned my flesh when it touched me, but other than that I don’t know what it can do.” Yata hisses a sharp intake of breath.  The pain in his hand starts to dull; Yata quickly squeezes the base of his wrist until blood spurts out.

 

“Misaki!” Anna cries. 

 

Yata glances at Saru from the corner of his eye – Saru’s eyes are slammed shut and his whole body trembles.  And he imagines Saru, as dead as Mikoto, and the world crumbling at his feet – Yata squeezes more blood out of his hand and forces himself to continue. 

 

“They can’t just fight us the way they are; that’s why the use the Kaiju.  And they’ve been testing the world with the small Kaiju, but once they’ve figured out how to defeat us – they planned to send the big one,” Yata hisses again, pain blooms in the back of his skull but he bites his lip hard enough that blood wells in his mouth.

 

He _has_ to keep going. 

 

“They have a hive mind – and that’s what controls the Kaiju. They have nothing without Kaiju, so we _have_ to destroy the hive mind.”  Yata hisses to a stop and doubles over, the pain in his skull rockets down his body, his vision starts to darken at the corners and he hears hisses swallowing his ear drums. 

 

The pain in his hand becomes _nothing_. 

 

Yata bites back a scream.  He has to keep _going_.

 

“We have to cross the breech!” The hissing in his ears becomes insistent, “If we can cross the breach – destroy whatever thing programs the Kaiju, those creatures can’t do anything.” 

 

The hiss becomes a wail, and Yata feels Saru’s arms shaking him violently.  He hears Anna calling his name and the wet feeling of tears sliding down his cheeks but the world hangs at his fingertips and Yata _will_ save it. 

 

“They’re scared,” Yata hisses, “They’re scared because I know they’re secret and we can beat them.” 

 

The ache in his brain comes to a screeching stop and the feeling of a connected drift falls empty. 

 

Yata coughs out his lungs and sucks in oxygen as if his life depends on it, he collapses against Saru’s chest and Saru runs shaky fingers down his back. 

 

“Misaki?!” Anna looks at him with tears lining her eyes.

 

“I’m fine,” Yata gasps, “I’m fine really it’s just – “

 

Saru silences him by squeezing him tighter against his chest.  Yata swallows, “They call themselves precursors,”

 

Nothing happens.  Pain doesn’t strike; Yata frowns.  “They’ve conquered millions of worlds already; they came here back in the Triassic period but deemed it uninhabitable, when humans came and settled, they found it worthwhile again and started creating the breech.” 

 

Nothing hurts.

 

“They disconnected me,” Yata breathes, “They dropped our drift.”

 

“What?” Saru gasps. “What do you _mean_?”

 

“It doesn’t hurt when I talk about them anymore.” Yata snarls.

 

“Isn’t that _good_?” Kusanagi asks.

 

“They’re all connected to a hive mind,” Yata slams his fists on the table. “They don’t _have_ memories.  If you connect to one brain, you connect to them all – and as long as you’re connected, you can see it _all_.  They kicked me out.”

 

“Misaki,” Anna breathes. “It’s okay,” Yata notices she’s shivering, hunched against Totsuka’s side, and her knuckles are blanched white squeezing the marbles in her palms.   “I don’t like it when you talk to them – they wanted to make you one of them, your soul was disappearing.” 

 

Yata shudders and Saru squeezes him impossibly tighter against his chest.  “So, we have to go in the breech,” Totsuka says, “From everything you’ve gathered – to defeat them, we have to go in the breech.”

 

Saru shivers, “If we do a little research, then maybe – “

 

“No.” Yata whispers, he curls his fists against his thighs.  “No, we have to go the next time – the next Kaiju is going to be the big one.  If we don’t go the next time, the world is over.”

 

A solemn aura fills the room, Anna drops her marbles on the table – all of them congregate at their base on Anna’s map, and the marble Yata keeps in his pocket burns to join them.  “Yes.” She whispers, “It will come.”

 

Totsuka runs his hands down his face and sighs, “It’s time to call Shiro.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yata sits patiently on the toilet seat of their shared bathroom.  He holds in a smile; Saru rummages around their cupboards searching for a first aid kit and it reminds Yata of their childhood days. 

 

Yata’s injured palm lies in the sink basin and a small trickle of warm water washes away the dried blood.  The wound still looks ugly; it’s a big, open gash and when Yata closes his fingers he feels it sticking together.  It burns, of course, but Yata’s felt so much today he doesn’t register it at all. 

 

Saru yanks the first aid kit from where it was tucked away at the top shelf and starts digging around to find the antiseptic.  Yata watches his fingers tremble, bits of bandages fall over the side and slosh into the reddened water collecting into the sink basin. 

 

Yata sighs deeply and lightly nudges Saru with his foot, “Stop blaming yourself.”

 

Saru grimaces, “I’m not.”

 

“You are,” Yata accuses.

 

“I’m _not_.”

 

“You _are_.” Yata deadpans.

 

Saru scoffs, “How would you even know?”

 

Yata smiles, “Your shoulders are tensed, and everything in that box is falling out.”

 

Saru furrows his brows, “So?”

 

Yata giggles, “When the Fushimi Saruhiko behaves carelessly, it means he is in a great deal of distress, most often guilt.” Yata recites.

 

Saru rolls his eyes, “Aren’t you hilarious?” he groans, but Yata catches the light twitch of his lips.

 

“You still found it funny,” he laughs.  Saru presses the tip of an antiseptic soaked cotton ball to his palm and Yata whimpers. “Haven’t you heard of being _gentle_?” Yata gripes.

 

“Haven’t you heard of being not _annoying_?” Saru bites back, although he lightens his touch.  “I’m still sorry,” he whispers softly.

 

Yata ignores him.  “You know, doesn’t this remind you of when we were kids?”

 

Saru smiles lightly, “Someone was always on the toilet of your bathroom,” he chuckles. Saru bites his cheek, “I’m happy I met you.”

 

Yata blinks, “Huh?”

 

A blush blooms in the back of Saru’s necks and climbs into his cheeks, he refuses to meet Yata’s eyes, gingerly wiping antiseptic into the wound.  “Don’t make me repeat it,” he grunts.

 

Yata laughs, “Come on, it’s not every day I hear _you_ being sappy.” Yata pauses, “Me too,” he says easily.  “I can’t really remember what it was like before you, anymore – but I remember that it sucked. Mom just got re-married, dad went crazy drinking.  It sucked a shit ton,” Yata grimaces, “And yea, we left and all, and her new husband was great, but I could tell he didn’t really want me there.”

 

Saru snorts, “He’s an idiot, then.”

 

Yata shrugs and lightly brushes the bangs out of Saru’s eyes, he holds his hand there, running the soft strands of hair through his fingers. “I mean, yea a little bit. But I get it, you know? Here he is, having kids with the perfect woman; her only baggage is a delinquent son who keeps crying and running back to a man who beats the shit out of him; wouldn’t you get frustrated too?”

 

Saru wrinkles his nose, “That’s still no reason to shut out a child,”

 

“He _didn’t_ though.” Yata shakes his head, “He tried really, _really_ hard; and so, did my mom. But in the end, I could tell, ya know?” Yata rubs little circles into Saru’s scalp, Saru releases a pleased hum and Yata chuckles again.  “I think I just wasn’t meant to be there, it wasn’t my home from the start.”

 

Saru’s heart skips a beat, “So what was, then?”

 

Yata flicks him on the forehead, “You, stupid.”

 

Saru smiles, “It’s just nice to hear you say it,”

 

Yata rolls his eyes and a pleasant silence surrounds them.  Yata closes his eyes and hums a soft tune under his breath, Saru gingerly wraps a gauze around his palm and secures it with a clip while Yata aimlessly allows his mind to wander.  Saru holds his hand, slowly smoothing out the bandages, and breaks the silence in such a soft voice Yata almost misses it, “Your home for me, too.” Saru breathes.

 

Saru’s thumb rubbing at the skin of his palm sends a spark coursing through his veins and Yata swallows.  “I obviously didn’t have very good parents,” Saru chuckles at Yata’s frown.  He smooths out the lines of his lips and cups Yata’s cheek into his palm.  Yata’s heart beats rapidly against his ribs, but Yata leans into the touch and lets his eyes droop closed. 

 

“You didn’t,” Yata hums, “But you had me,”

 

Saru grins, “I knew I had to have you in my life immediately,”

 

Yata raises an eyebrow, “You wanted nothing to do with me when we met,”

 

Saru rolls his eyes, “At first. But when we went to find the ship with Aya,” Saru leans forward on his knees and pushes their foreheads together, “It was the first time someone had tried to do something just for me – it was exhilarating,”

 

Yata grins, “I knew you were secretly a big sap,”

 

Saru clicks his tongue and shoves Yata lightly.  Yata waltzes out of the bathroom with a grin on his face and collapses onto Saru’s bed.  “It’s kind of crazy,” he mumbles, “Who ever thought a pair of kids with nothing but a middle school education could get so far?”

 

Saru leans against the bedframe, “I suppose so, but we were already living in an apartment in dead center Tokyo before we ever came here; we weren’t your average pair of kids.”

 

Yata laughs, “We only survived because you were a genius,”

 

Saru smiles and Yata scoots over so Saru can fall onto the bed beside him, “I mean, clearly you weren’t gonna be the genius of the family, so I had to step up to role,”

 

Yata laughs and shoves him.

 

They lie like that for a long time, basking in the peaceful silence. 

 

Yata intertwines their fingers and starts playing with Saru’s hands.  They’re warm, and Saru gently rubs his thumb into Yata’s palm and a searing warmth gushes into his heart. “Did you mean it?” Saru mumbles.

 

“Mean what?” Yata cocks an eyebrow.

 

“That you loved me.”

 

Yata swallows, “Yeah,” he whispers, “I did.” 

 

Saru rolls over and stares into Yata’s eyes; heat pools in the depths of Yata’s stomach – Saru’s eyes bore into his soul, and Yata feels the desire swirling in them.  Yata shudders; Saru cups his cheek with his hand; his slender fingers twirl into the strands of Yata’s hair and it’s a whole new sensation.  It’s a way Saru’s never touched him before. 

 

It says, _I love you, too._

Yata leans into the touch, resting his cheek against Saru’s palm and his eyes droop.  He glances up at Saru with half-lidded eyes and finds the red tinge of flushed skin climbing into his face.  It’s not a blush – it’s _different_. 

 

Saru kisses him. 

 

He leans forward and presses Yata into the mattress; Yata curls his fists into the collar of his shirt.  The searing heat of an open-mouthed kiss courses through his veins, and Yata feels _loved_.  Saru sucks Yata’s bottom lip into his mouth and swipes his tongue in a way that has Yata arching off the bed to push their chests together.  Warmth surges between them and electric sparks dance everywhere Saru’s fingers run across his body.  He snakes an arm underneath Yata’s waist and presses their bodies closer together, as if he wants every inch of Yata pressed against him.

 

And Yata _gets_ it. He pulls Saru down into his chest; Saru nuzzles his nose gently.  But he sucks on Yata’s lips in a bruising kiss.  It feels _possessive_ , and the thought of Saru wanting _him_ makes a wave of pleasure sweep over his body. 

 

Saru pulls away to gasp for breath, but Yata pulls him back down and nips at his lips.  Saru leans over him, curling his fingers into the mattress beneath them and Yata peppers his face with tiny kisses and relishes the soft gasps that leave his lips.  Every sound that escapes Saru sends a shiver coursing down Yata’s spine.  _He_ did that, each little gasp Saru releases is because of _him_. 

 

And Yata _loves_ it. 

 

Still connected by a small stream of saliva, Saru presses Yata against the pillow and towers over him.  His lips are red and swollen, and his chest heaves for breath, “Don’t let me have all the fun,” his voice is deep and throaty, it sounds like a rumble rather than words and Yata whimpers at the sound of it.

 

Saru starts sucking at the skin on his throat, and Yata moans out his name.  His pulls Saru closer, and the friction of rubbing against Saru sends searing heat coursing through his blood.  Saru nuzzles into the crook of his neck, pressing every inch of their bodies together and Yata whines at the pressure building in his boxers. 

 

Saru smirks against his neck, he mercilessly sucks bruises along the line of his collar bone and presses his knee between Yata’s legs.  It has him gasping for breath and tugging at the roots of Saru’s hair.  “S-Saru,” Yata gasps, sucking in breath, “If you keep going so fast, I’m gonna – “

 

Saru leans back to admire the line of bruises forming along Yata’s throat, he falls forward to nibble at his earlobe and it has Yata crying out again.  Desire pools into his stomach and Yata’s heart pounds against his rib cage.  His dick throbs against his stomach and the pressure of his clothes actually starts to _hurt_. 

 

Saru leans forward to recapture his lips and Yata snatches the opportunity to flip them over. 

 

“Oi,” Saru breathes.

 

“You did it last time,” Yata mumbles, “Let me return the favor,”

 

Saru whimpers when Yata sucks softly into the hollow of his throat, “Fine,” he mumbles.  It sounds raspy and broken, and Yata relishes the way Saru digs his fist into Yata’s hips.  He tugs at the ends of Saru’s shirt and a breathy laugh tumbles out of Saru’s mouth. 

 

“Fine,” Saru relents, pulling it over his shoulders.  But he reaches over and yanks Yata’s shirt, so it gets caught on his chest, “But you _too_.” 

 

Yata clicks his tongue and shakes the shirt off his head.  He straddles Saru and tilts down to fold their chests together.  Yata feels the warmth of Saru’s skin shudder beneath him, and Saru runs his fingers down Yata’s naked back. The trail of his fingers feels _electric_ , it feels impossibly warm as if fire dances where their bodies touch. 

 

Yata peppers tiny kisses down the trail of Saru’s stomach, he traces his hands over the lines of muscle.  Saru’s hips fly off the bed and Saru cries out in a way that makes Yata’s dick twitch with interest.  _“Misaki_ ,” he gasps when Yata’s tongue swipes lower.  He nuzzles his face into the crotch of Saru’s jeans and those slender fingers yank at his hair.  Saru cries a desperate moan of his name, and Yata wants him _undone_. 

 

Yata pops the button of Saru’s jeans and slowly loops his fingers to pull them down.  He teases Saru and gently lowers his pants at an _agonizing_ pace.  He pauses when Saru’s jeans are looped around his thighs and softly breathes against his clothed dick.  Saru gasps, “Misaki I _swear_ , I’m going to kill you if you’re doing this on purpose,” 

 

Yata releases a breathy laugh, he pulls down Saru’s pants the rest of the way – along with his underwear – and Saru gasps at the lack of pressure surrounding his dick.  

 

Yata licks a thin strip from the base of Saru’s cock to the head; Saru’s hips buck with a desperate moan of _Misaki_.  Yata chuckles, his breath ghosting across the tip of Saru’s dick, “Is now a good time to admit I really don’t know what I’m doing?”

 

“I…” Saru gasps – Yata nibbles at the soft flesh of his thigh and the blooming bruise of a hickey starts to form, “…I want to make fun of you, _Misaki_ , but you’re doing pretty fucking good.”

 

Yata loops his hands around Saru’s thighs – his own dick twitches in his pants – but Yata swallows Saru completely and relishes the little noises that erupt from his lips.  Yata sucks lightly at first, enjoying the shuddering noises. Saru’s thighs tremble in his grasp and Yata softly kneads the flesh to prevent Saru from arching up.   Saru tangles his fingers into Yata’s hair, those slender fingers scratching at his scalp with each little muffled noise that Saru can’t hold in.   

 

Yata starts to suck harder, and the salty taste of _Saru_ fills his mouth.  _“Misaki_ ,” Saru breathes, _“Wait_.”  He pulls Yata away.

 

Yata leans back on his knees, “What? Did I…do something wrong?”  He asks, but Saru’s chest heaves for breath, a red flush coats every inch of his skin and Saru’s a _mess._  His lips are still swollen and red, and his cheeks are flushed.  Yata did that, Yata did _this_ – Saru bares himself in his most vulnerable state to _him._

 

Saru’s pupils are dilated and his glasses half-askew.  Yata reaches over to gently remove them and place them on the table; Saru watches the lines of his body ripple as he does – no _way_ he did something wrong.

 

 _“No_.” Saru answers, he pushes himself on his elbows and presses their foreheads together.  “I want something else,” he whispers softly against Yata’s skin. 

 

Saru palms his erection and Yata shudders into his arms.  His head falls into the crook of Saru’s neck;  Saru spreads Yata’s legs and presses harder against his dick and Yata bites into his shoulder to hold in the loud moan threatening to fall from his lips. 

 

 _Oh_. Yata thinks.  Saru pushes Yata’s closer so the naked, sweat-matted skin of their chests touch and searing heat envelopes them.  “Can I?” Saru begs.

 

Yata doesn’t answer, too caught up in the moment – Saru swipes his slender fingers into Yata’s shorts; the ghost of his fingers grazing across his dick makes Yata whine against Saru’s neck before he can stop it and he whispers, _“Please_.” 

 

Saru rips Yata’s shorts away immediately, the rush of cold air makes Yata shudder; but Saru runs his warm hands down his back and all over his thighs that warmth floods him all over again.  Saru flips them over and lies Yata down into the mattress; he starts placing sloppy, wet, open-mouthed kisses down the line of Yata’s stomach and Yata mewls.  Saru holds down his hips, they fly up with each press of lips against his naked skin. 

 

Yata feels _loved_.  He feels Saru doting over him with each little kiss, each little nip at his skin is Saru marveling _him_.  The thought pushes Yata into overdrive, every little brush of fingers against his skin makes Yata cry out harder than he ever has.  “I-It’s too much,” he moans.  “I can’t hold it like this,”

 

And its not just him; he feels remnants of Saru’s emotions dotting over his brain. The ghost drift causes small bits of Saru’s thoughts to shroud over his own and Yata _can’t_ handle it.

 

Saru smirks against his skin, “Do it for me, won’t you _love_?” 

 

Yata cries, actual tears start to leak from his eyes from all the pleasure washing over him.  “Asshole,” he whines, “You’re such an _asshole_.”

 

Saru grins into his stomach, he surges forward and pulls Yata into an open-mouthed kiss.  Saru sucks on Yata’s bottom lip and his tongue roams freely over Yata’s mouth.  And Yata gets drawn in, he drowns in Saru’s scent filling his nostrils, in Saru’s body shrouding over him – and then Saru does it. 

 

Yata gasps into the kiss, Saru nips harder at his lips to distract him; Saru inserts one finger into his ass and just holds it there.  They break away from the kiss and Yata’s panting, his head falls against Saru’s chest and Saru holds him up with a single arm looped around his body.  “Does it feel okay?” 

 

“It feels weird,” Yata mumbles against him, still gasping for air.  The foreign sensation of something in ass is just _weird_ – but not necessarily painful. 

 

“But does it hurt?” Saru pushes.

 

“N-No, not really.” Yata whispers.  Saru smirks and the finger pushes deeper into his ass, Yata shivers and collapses back into the bed.  Saru wiggles his finger deeper and Yata feels him gently add a second,  his other hand rubs soothing circles into Yata’s hips and Yata just _can’t_ handle it. 

 

His dick _throbs_ against his stomach, Saru carefully moving his fingers to pleasure Yata fills his heart with a fullness Yata’s never had before.  He feels so loved and cared for and just _wanted_.  Saru gently touching, Saru looking to suck on all the right place that make his name curl out of Yata’s lips and Yata’s hip to jump off the bed before he can stop them. 

 

The feeling of Saru’s skin pressed tightly against his own, as if Saru wants to stay there – touching every free inch of Yata he _can_.  It’s too _much._

 

Saru wriggles his fingers deeper into his ass, and he curves them softly and brushes just against the soft flesh and Yata sees _white_.  Saru holds his hips down but Yata’s moan morphs into a helpless cry, he _cries_.  Saru smirks down at the fresh tears forming in his eyes and laughs, “You idiot, are you actually crying?” 

 

“S-Shut up,” Yata hisses, Saru arches his fingers again and Yata’s thighs tremble and he releases another blubbering moan that turns him into a _mess_.  “I can’t _help_ it!” Yata whines, quickly wiping the tears with the back of his hand, “It just feels…” Yata blushes, “…too good,” 

Saru laughs, “I guess I found the right spot then.”

 

Yata’s limbs feel like jelly, “If my legs weren’t practically numb, I swear I’d kick you.”

 

Saru removes his fingers and Yata bites his tongue to withhold a moan.  Saru leans over and pushes their foreheads together, “This is gonna hurt.”

 

Saru pulls Yata into a kiss; a sharp sting of pain radiates when Saru enters him, but Yata’s too focused on the magic of Saru’s tongue twining with his own.  Saru doesn’t move an inch – he instead glides his fingers down Yata’s stomach, twirling designs into the muscle until he reaches the base of Yata’s cock. 

 

He forgets the pain; all Yata knows in that moment is Saru’s skin pressed flush against his own, and Saru’s talented fingers gliding around his dick.  Yata cries out when Saru swipes a thumb over the head, he arches his hips again and his ass clenches around Saru; Saru gasps, leaning forward into Yata’s neck with a breathy moan.

 

“Y-You can move,” Yata hisses. “It’s fine.” 

 

Saru grins, Yata feels his lips twitch on his skin, “You’re impatient for a pretty little virgin,”

 

Yata smacks him, “Fuck off and _move_.” 

 

Saru does.  He starts thrusting; maneuvering around until he finds the spot that sends Yata’s vision soaring.  He starts to see stars in his eyes and Saru shivers above him; sweat trickling down his forehead and Yata sees the _love_ painting over his features. 

 

Saru looks at him as if Yata holds the _world_.  Yata pushes up, pushes them _deeper_ together, pushes their mouth together and claws his nails into Saru’s back.  He wants to connect them _forever,_ wants to live the rest of his life encased in Saru’s warm arms. 

 

Saru wraps a hand around his dick and Yata whines into their slotted mouths.  Saru starts moving his hand at the same pace that he thrusts; and Yata gasps into his mouth.

 

It’s too _much_. 

 

He feels the wetness sting in his eyes again.  Saru thrusting into him, Saru’s skilled hands _touching_ him, Saru’s mouth sucking on him as if Yata’s the most beautiful thing Saru’s ever touched.  “I can’t hold it,” Yata whines into their mouths. 

 

Saru shudders and then Yata’s vision _blurs_. 

 

He sees stars, sees color bursting across his eyes and he hears Saru’s thoughts.  He hears Saru’s voice bouncing all over his head, hears the words _I love you, I love you, I love all of you, I want all of you_ dancing across this thoughts and Yata _drowns_. 

 

And through their ghost drift, Yata feels Saru drown with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooooo did i really just write like 2.5 k worth of smut? 
> 
> yup. i probably dragged that out wayyyy longer than it needed to be but, oh well. 
> 
> once again, sorry for the semi-late update! i got off a flight, went to work, and finally got around to posting this - now im gonna sleep at like 8pm. 
> 
> also fun fact: today's my birthday! and i learned that i share it with mikoto! that made me feel pretty freaking cool
> 
> and as a forewarning, i havent been able to work on the last chapter at all - ive also been scheduled a shit ton at work and school starts in two weeks. sooooooo, im gonna try my damn hardest to get this done on time but i reallllly dont wanna make any promises because this is gonna be a hell of a week


	10. x

_Yata smacks him.  “You thought – “ he kicks him with all of his strength until Saru is a groaning mess of lanky limbs curled up on the floor.  Yata yanks him by the collar until they’re eye level.  “You thought I’d leave?”_

_Yata rattles him, “I spent ten goddamn years of my life with you.  I left my family – any chance of a normal career – to be with you. We dropped out of middle school together – I lived with you for over 5 years – how could you even…even…”_

_Yata struggles to find the words, he suddenly feels the faintness seeping back into his bones and drops Saru like a ragdoll.  He clutches his head in his hands and tugs on the ends of his hair out of frustration.  “And people call me stupid!”_

_“But you – “_

_“I don’t understand!” Yata mimics, “That’s what you’re going to say – right? Because you’re so high and mighty – seated up there on your stupid throne, and stupid Misaki will never understand, right?”_

_“ – you were perfect.” Saru stammers lamely._

_Yata blanches.  “W-What?”_

_Saru chuckles, “You really don’t understand – you’re like the sun, so bright.  It was only a matter of time until someone amazing whisked you away from me.”_

_Yata wraps around him and shoves his nose deep into Saru’s chest and just breathes.  Saru tenses at first – just like in middle school – and then every bit of tension bleeds out and he snakes his hands around Yata’s waste and squeezes him exactly as Yata thought he would after two years of holding back.  After two, long, grueling years of emptiness – Yata relishes that familiar warmth shrouding over him._

_“You dipshit,” his voice comes out muffled against Saru’s clothes, “I could never leave you,”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Okay.”  Totsuka inhales a sharp breath.  “Okay, are you _sure_ about this?”

 

Yata rolls his eyes, “We’re _very_ sure,” he snarls.  “We have to do this,”

 

“Right, yes.” Totsuka swallows and gnaws at his lips.  “Right you have to.”  When he looks at them, Yata catches the remnants of tear stains dotting his cheeks.  They brim in his eyes; and Yata sees an older brother doting on a younger sibling. “I’m sorry, I’m just…” Totsuka starts, “I’m just…”

 

Saru fidgets, “We’re scared too.” He mumbles.

 

Totsuka sighs.  His fingers tremble as he runs them through his hair, “I’m sorry boys,” he whispers, “I feel like I’m sending a bunch of children out to their deaths,”

 

“We’re not much younger than you,” Saru snaps, Totsuka shoots him a watery smile. 

 

“Is this even possible? To go through the breach?” Totsuka’s shoulder droop as he sighs.

 

Yata wrinkles his nose and bites his lip, “Who knows?” Yata whispers, Saru squeezes his hand softly.  “But we don’t have a better option.”

 

Yata leans back against the hangar door of Silverback; Saru fidgets with his hands – a frown sits on his lips and Yata hates the sight of it.  He hates the sight of all of it; everyone solemnly skirting around each other like robots.  Yata swallows the lump in his throat, “I want ice cream,” he demands suddenly.

 

Totsuka blinks, “Right now?”

 

“When we get back, I want ice cream.”  Totsuka gapes at him.  Yata bites his lip to hold down a grin, “You said that team from Osaka is flying in, right – Shiro-something? Well, since they’re your friends, treat us all to ice cream when we’re done.” 

 

“I – “ Totsuka chuckles under his breath, even Saru clicks his tongue at him and a light hum of laughter dusts the crew members filtering around _Silverback_.  “Fine,” Totsuka smiles, “When you come back, I’ll buy you ice cream.”

 

Saru rolls his eyes and smacks Yata lightly on the back of the head, but Yata catches the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.  “Alright,” Totsuka starts. “Get suited up and head out there.  If we’re lucky – the Osaka team will arrive before the Kaiju, if we’re not…”

 

Yata’s heart murmurs, but he forces his voice to stay smooth as he speaks, “If we’re not, then we’ll be fine.  We’ll hold her off and wait.  And once the other team gets here, we’ll go into the breach, destroy it, and save the world.  If we’re lucky, we’ll be back by dinner.”

 

Totsuka groans as Yata prances past him into _Silverback_. “Don’t worry,” Yata continues. “We’re going to be fine.” 

 

The lies taste bitter in his mouth. 

 

“You better,” Totsuka whispers.  He squeezes into the Jaeger and loops an arm around both of his pilots.  He squeezes them tightly against his chest, Yata feels Saru stiffen; but the tension slowly bleeds away, and he wraps arms around Totsuka as well.  “I can’t lose anyone else, so _please_. Please come back.”

 

“We will,” Saru whispers, “I promise we will.” 

 

Totsuka lets them go; fresh tears rest on his cheeks.  The team straps them in; and the hangar door closes – leaving them in hollow silence.  “We’re going to do this.” Yata swallows the dry lump of fear building in his throat, “We’re going to save the fucking world.”

 

Saru shivers, “Yea.” He mumbles, “Yea we are.” 

 

Totsuka connects the drift, then the handshake – then _Silverback_ rises and stares over the calm ocean.  The waves move with a soft lull, crashing gently against the shore and hiding the enemy simpering within her depths.  Fear curdles in Yata’s heart – he reaches across the drift – Saru reaches back for him but Yata feels the anxiety thrumming between them.

 

 _Will we really be okay_?

_I don’t know._

Yata stretches his fingers; he bends over to let the cool water wash over _Silverback’s_ hands – he imagines it on his own fingers.  _Do you remember when we used to come here?_

A memory fleets by them.

 

Yata catches small bits of both of them – running around in swim trunks; he catches the time Saru slammed a volleyball in Totsuka’s head.  Mikoto – lounging away on a beach chair – doesn’t blink when Totsuka collapses next to him; he just uses a steady hand to ruffle Totsuka’s hair and allows Reisi to stupidly bury his legs in sand. 

 

A little bit of bittersweet nostalgia fills Yata’s throat; it’s a mix of his and Saru’s – swirling between them.   A bit of it wonders _what would it be like if Mikoto were still here?_ Another bit wonders _what will it be like if we lose today_? 

 

The tides of the oceans lap against _Silverback’s_ knees.  _Do you think we’re going to die?_ Yata thinks.  _Tell me honestly._

 

Saru fidgets, tugging lightly on the skin-tight suit that clings to his skin.  Yata cranes his neck and watches a little trail of sweat trickle down the side of his face.  _I don’t know._  Saru says finally.  _I think we could_. 

 

Yata sighs and watches the gentle hum of the ocean.  _I think we could survive, too_.  Saru amends.  _There’s a decent chance of either_. 

 

Yata screws his eyes shut and takes a careful breath. “You didn’t see it,” he speaks the words without meaning to, they fall off his tongue in a soft whisper – and without their connected drift Saru would have never heard it. 

 

Saru doesn’t speak.  _There’s no point to be scared_.  He says finally.  _We do what we can, and if it’s not enough – it’s not our problem anymore._

 

Yata huffs and cranes his neck to glare.  _Aren’t you scared of dying?_  

 

_If we don’t win? I’d be more scared of living._

Yata wrinkles his nose.  _Yeah, s’pose that’s a fair point._

 

The water starts to bubble, and Yata’s heart sinks into his stomach.  **“I’m detecting seismic activity through the roof,”**  Totsuka calls to them.  He speaks with a hollow tint in his voice and  hopelessness rooted in his soul.  **“It’s a category too big to name.”**  Yata hears Totsuka inhale a shuddering breath.  **“Good luck, boys.”**

 

She rises.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“It’ll always be Misaki and Saru against the world – and we’ll always win, right?”_

_“Right, Misaki.  We’ll always win.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She breaks through the ocean. 

 

Water sloshes against _Silverback’s_ chest plate, sinking into her joints and Yata feels it sinking into his own heart. 

 

The creature blinks – she rubs her slime-covered hands against her eyes and blinks them rapidly.   Somewhere – in the back of his mind – Yata recalls remnants of hissing, remnants of lined Kaiju waiting like expendable livestock.  It must be the first time she’s opened them – they glow a vibrant green – filled with endless curiosity for the world. 

 

Yata sees her curious gaze, for the briefest moment, and then the vibrant glow disappears.

 

A hollowness replaces it.

 

Neon blue veins trace down her skull; they pop out when she roars.  She draws to her full height; towering three meters taller than _Silverback_.   She stretches out her claws; her chest heaves up and down and her hollow eyes search the ocean.  She roars and clutches her head, scratching her claws down the side so radioactive blue blood spills from the cuts. 

 

She blinks – Yata catches a flash of orange light swallowing her pupils. 

 

Her programing is complete. 

 

They brace _Silverback_ into the ocean floor.  The Kaiju shakes her head to brush off the lingering water; a line of quills snaking up her back move with her.  **“She’s…. _huge_.”  ** Totsuka gasps. 

 

“She’s as big as the fucking Megalodon,” Saru breathes.

 

Yata chuckles with no mirth, “That’s a pretty good name for it, actually.”

 

Megalodon bares her teeth; flashing fangs that extend as far as Yata’s body. **“I’ve got word that our team from Osaka is on its way.  Shiro says to hang in there for just ten minutes and he’ll be there,”**

 

“That worked out great last time,”  Saru hisses.

 

Megalodon sneers at them; the water sloshes around her ankles.  _We should make the first move_.  Yata whispers over the drift, his heart whines and fear clouds over his thoughts, but _still_.  _We need the upper hand_. 

 

He senses Saru’s hesitant agreement.  _Well, here we go._

 

 _Silverback_ charges; she headbutts Megalodon in the chest.  She coughs; her lungs seize for breath and she stumbles. 

 

She doesn’t fall – she pushes _Silverback_.  They dig _Silverback’s_ feet into the sand and push _back._  

 

She snarls at them – she releases and rubs at the sore spot just above her heart.  Yata doesn’t dare breathe;  he keeps his eyes trained on hers – monitoring every hitch in breath, every direction she looks, every light twitch of movement, _everything_. 

 

She rushes at them; _Silverback_ glides around her and smashes an elbow into her side.  She screeches; but she snatches _Silverback_ ’s elbow and slams her into the ocean. 

 

Yata gasps, for a moment he sees the dazzling blue water surround his eyes.  The shimmering sun beats down on them, and like this – the world looks _peaceful_.

 

 **“Get up!”** Totsuka cries, **“ _Get up!”_**

_Silverback_ narrowly dodges the Kaiju slamming them.  _Silverback_ jumps;  Megalodon’s tail swipes the edge of her metal and Yata’s heart leaps into his throat.  _That was really close_. 

 

Megalodon lunges; _Silverback_ dodges neatly and slams Megalodon’s head down in a headlock.  She thrashes beneath them but Yata slams his knee into her chest.  The Kaiju screeches; gasping for breath and throws her claws out.  She scratches at the metal plates, _Silverback_ releases her hold and pushes some distance between them.

 

Yata watches the Kaiju’s chest heave.   She rubs her claws against her own flesh, leaving tiny scratch marks that drip with blood.  She doesn’t notice it – her eyes don’t seem to notice anything.  They’ve morphed into a yellowish-green, too clouded over to notice pain. 

 

Yata shakes out his sweaty fingers.  “It doesn’t understand a thing that’s happening,” he speaks out loud for Totsuka.  “It’s programmed to not understand that it’s hurt; it doesn’t know anything other than to destroy us. It won’t even know that it’s about to die.”

 

 **“That’s…cruel.** ” Totsuka hisses

 

“Yea,” Yata whispers.  “We’re dealing with some cruel pieces of shit,”      

 

 _Silverback_ rushes forward and clips the Kaiju in the shoulder.  She tumbles forward; but braces herself against the thick sand of the ocean and snaps her neck to growl at them.  She throws a punch but _Silverback_ dives beneath it and headbutts her hip.   She loses balance and drops to her knees. 

 

Saru activates a sword and swings his fist above Megalodon’s head.  

 

She roars. 

 

She roars so loud it stings in Yata’s ears. 

 

She snatches the sword with her bare hands; blood spurts from her palms but she crushes the sword into chunks.  She bends the metal and rips it straight from the socket and Saru snatches _Silverback_ ’s arm back just as she uses his _own_ sword to slice. 

 

She drops the remnants into the water and charges for them.  She bears right, so _Silverback_ ducks left.

 

She changes.

 

The Kaiju swerves on her feet and slams into _Silverback’s_ left side.  The impact sends them crashing into the ocean again, this time the Kaiju holds them down with her hands locked around _Silverback’s_ throat.  Yata feels the gears breaking as if his own neck bruises, he aims a desperate kick that forces the Kaiju to release.

 

Yata sucks in oxygen as if his life depends on it.  Saru clutches the base of his own neck in his suit, rubbing at the muscles as he coughs his lungs out.  “It’s _learning_ ,” Saru hisses.  “It saw us dodge like that before – it’s _learning.”_

 

They can’t react – the Kaiju slams into them again, wrapping her arms around their torso and squeezing the metal joints until sparks form.  “She’s cracking us!” Saru screams over the comm, “Our metal is _breaking_!”

 

Yata activates the right sword; he wedges the sword between _Silverback_ and the Kaiju as a shield, but the Kaiju’s claws sink into his sword.

 

She yanks back; to rip it away in the same manner as she did Saru’s – but something snatches her snout and yanks her whole body backward. 

 

The Kaiju screams and collapses onto her back.

 

 _Fire King_ stands triumphantly before them.

 

 _“Reisi?!”_  Saru and Misaki cry together.

 

 **“You needed help,”** Reisi speaks simply. 

 

“Who’s piloting with you?” Saru demands, “I can’t sense anyone else.”

 

 **“There isn’t anyone else.”** Totsuka whispers – his voice seems broken; a mix of rage and defeat mashed together.  **“He’s piloting alone.”**

“That’s not…that’s not _possible_.”  Yata snaps. 

 

 **“If you could do it,”** Reisi drawls, **“It’s a huge insult to assume I _couldn’t_ do it.” **

 

“Oi!” Yata snaps – the Kaiju swerves and slashes her claws into _Fire King’s_ torso and Yata’s words die on his tongue. 

 

“We can argue _later_.” Saru snaps.  _Silverback_ snatches the Kaiju by her tail.  She yanks Megalodon free from _Fire King_ but once again the Kaiju ducks left and slips herself free. She dives beneath them. 

 

 _Dammit!_ Saru snarls.  _It’s getting smarter._

 

Megalodon lunges again; _Fire King_ launches into her path and crosses her arms above her head to create a shield.  Megalodon crashes – face first – and slams her snout against the activated spikes lining _Fire King_ ’s arms.  Blood trickles from her nose, but she shakes it free and bares her teeth at them once more. 

 

She punches _Fire King’s_ shoulders; scraping her claws against the sides.  Reisi gasps under the pressure; he steels his ground and snatches the next fist Megalodon throws – she twists her hand in _Fire King’s_ grasp until Reisi snarls and releases her.  **“It’s very smart,”**  he affirms, **“Smarter than anything we’ve faced before**.” 

 

 _Silverback_ slams against Megalodon.  “We just need to hold her off until the other team gets here,” Saru growls, “Once that happens – we can cross the breach.”

 

Reisi huffs out a breath – Megalodon snakes towards him and latches onto his ankles.  She sinks her teeth into the joints; Reisi twists his foot and rips out a few of her sharpened fangs.   He earns an ear-splitting screech, but the Kaiju licks away the blood dripping from its teeth and latches onto _Fire King’s_ back.  **“It doesn’t have – “** Reisi pauses to dig his elbows into her stomach and knock her into the water, **“Any self-preservation, even if you go into that breach, she seems prepared to follow you.”**

 

Yata watches Megalodon rise – she snaps her jaw into Reisi’s elbow; blood pours down her body from the magnitude of the injuries she’s received.  Reisi’s _right._  “We don’t have any choice,” Yata snarls through gritted teeth.  “This is the only option we have.”

 

Reisi doesn’t speak for a long time the Kaiju simmers under the ocean.  **“Okay.”** Reisi sighs.  **“If that’s what you think,”**

 

 _Fire King_ lunges for Megalodon.  The Jaeger slams her into the ocean with a chokehold – the Kaiju presses against her chest plate and surges forward.  

 

But this time, another Jaeger slams her head back down.

 

 **“Sorry we’re late!”**  Yata doesn’t recognize the voice that calls over the comm.

 

He doesn’t recognize the stark white Jaeger, with fucking _wings_ on her back, either. 

 

“What the fuck is that?” Yata hisses.

 

Saru smirks, “If you hadn’t passed out the last time, you’d know. That’s the _White Rice Party_ from Osaka; a three-man team.” 

 

 **“Sorry!”** The same voice calls out, **“My name is Shiro, you must be Yata-kun. Clearly now is not a good time for introductions – so you’ll just have to make it out of that breach alive, so we can meet properly!”**

The Jaeger _flies._ It can’t stay airborne for long – but Yata watches it pounce, and like some kind of airship – boosters shoot out of its feet and the resistance against its wings allow it to latch onto the Kaiju’s back and slam its knees into Megalodon’s throat.  Yata covers his ears at the hoarse screech that follows. 

 

 **“Good job Kuroh!”**  Shiro exclaims – the Jaeger actually claps along. 

 

 **“Don’t get distracted and just take it down.”**  Someone huffs – Kuroh – Yata guesses.  He hears a female voice laughing somewhere within their drift; but he doesn’t dwell on it. 

 

“We need to go now,” Yata demands.  “Now’s our only chance.” 

 

He glances over at Saru; Saru’s looking at him with equal determination – but Yata’s heart lodges in his throat.  _We have to do this_. 

 

 _But I really don’t want to._  

 

 _I don’t want to die_. 

 

Saru reaches across their drift – warmth engulfs Yata’s body and he shudders against it.  _Me neither_ , it says, _but if I do – at least it’s with you_. 

 

 _Silverback_ skirts around Megalodon.  “She came from somewhere around here,” Yata mumbles.  “We may have to go under water to even _see_ it.” 

 

_We’re gonna do it.  We’re going in._

 

Yata’s head explodes. 

 

So does Megalodon’s. 

 

 _“Misaki?!”_  Saru screams – Yata can’t quite hear it.

 

Pain swarms over his whole body; the familiar hissing usurps his hearing and Yata’s clutching at his head and moaning.  He slams his eyes shut.  The hissing screeches, _I’ll kill you._   

 

The crushing realization swallows him; they _never_ dropped the drift – they only _silenced_ it.  _Stupid_ Yata thinks, _I’m so stupid!_   A sharp sting radiates over his shoulder blades, he grasps at his chest and coughs for air, but the vile hissing fills his ears and fire courses over his skin.  It _hurts_. 

 

Behind them; the Kaiju releases an ear-splitting screech and claws at his own head.  It screams and roars louder than ever before – Yata hears the other Jaeger screaming something at them, Saru screams something at him – Yata can’t hear, he can’t _understand_.

 

Yata only hears the sound of sharp hissing filling his ear drums and pain shooting down his spine. 

 

The Kaiju rushes at them – _White Rice Party_ grabs her elbow, but she throws them back with such violent force they fall back into the ocean.  Reisi screams something at them, and Yata vaguely registers Saru forcing _Silverback_ to run.  He vaguely hears Saru screaming his name – across the drift – not in his ears. 

 

Then Yata hears nothing. 

 

All his drifts fall empty.

 

Megalodon slams her fist into Yata’s half of _Silverback_.  The metal pulls away and the rush of ocean air fills Yata’s nose.  He gasps for it – for _air_.  His suit detaches from _Silverback_ and Yata’s _falling_.  He’s falling out of _Silverback_.

 

The last thing Yata sees is desperation clouding over Saru’s features – he’s reaching his hands forward, grasping for Yata.  But Yata’s falling – he’s _falling_.  Half of _Silverback’s_ face is missing – his half.  He’s falling into the ocean. 

 

Megalodon crushes the left half of _Silverback’s_ face in her fist.  She still screams – thrashing violently.  She claws at her face; radioactive blue blood spills from it and her orange eyes glow with new determination.

 

She snatches Yata midair and disappears into an invisible breach. 

 

They’re gone. 

 

 _Misaki is gone_.

 

Saruhiko screams. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**“Fushimi…”** Totsuka’s voice is laced with tears, Saru hears the sorrow in his voice.  **“Fall back.”**

 

 _“No!”_  Saru screams – the empty drift tugs at the corners of his brain; the pressure of _Silverback’s_ left side slowly falling onto his shoulders burns down his spine.  “I have to go get him; I _have_ to get him!”

 

 **“Fushimi Saruhiko I was giving a direct order. Fall. Back.”**  

 

“You don’t fucking tell me what to do.” Saruhiko _snarls_.  “Fuck you Tatara, I don’t fucking _care_.” 

 

Pain courses through his veins, the corners of Saruhiko’s vision spot with colors and he hears Reisi scream something at him – Misaki could do it.  Why can’t _he?_  Misaki held it for so _long_.  Why can’t _he?_  

 

_Why can’t I hold on long enough to save you?_

 

**“Cut off _Silverback_ and send in the helicopters.”  **

His drift falls completely. 

 

Saruhiko loses everything.  He loses _Silverback_.  He loses the battle.  He loses the world.

 

He loses _Misaki_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Fix her.”  Saruhiko slams his hands on Totsuka’s desk.  “Fix her _right now_.” 

 

“Fushimi you have no right to command me,” Totsuka says hollowly.  “I understand you’ve lost someone very important to you – we all have – so please – “

 

Saruhiko snatches Totsuka by the collar and curls his fingers to press his knuckles against the base of his throat. “He’s not fucking dead.” Saru growls, “So. Fix. Her.”  He punctuates each syllable with rage pooling in his eyes. 

 

“The drift fell – he’s _gone_.” Totsuka whimpers.  “Call back the other Jaeger – the Kaiju escaped.”

 

“He’s _not_ gone!” Saru screams, desperation in his voice.  “He’s _not_ gone.  I feel him – our ghost drift is still there, he’s still _alive!_ ”  Saru feels sloppy, wet tears dripping off his nose.  He hears the crack in his own voice but the pain brimming in his heart hurts most of all. He doesn’t care about the emotions written on his face; he doesn’t care if Totsuka sees them. _“Please_.” He begs – the vulnerability rings in his voice.  _“Please_. Fix her, please let me go back for him.  He’s alive, _I know.”_

“Even if I rush repairs, it will be at _least_ an hour!”  Totsuka rips Saru’s arms from his throat.

 

“I don’t _care_.” Saru begs.

 

“I will – under _no_ circumstances let you go alone.”

 

“If I find someone?”  Saru snatches his shoulders.  Tears pool in his eyes, Saruhiko will kiss his feet if he must.  He’ll do anything.  “If I find someone?!”

 

Totsuka sees it; the sadness surrounding him.  It’s the first time Saruhiko has shown any emotion, and Totsuka Tatara is nothing but a soft-hearted man.

 

“You have one hour Fushimi – if you can present me with a new partner in one hour – you can go.” 

 

“I only need ten minutes.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The first words Saruhiko says to Kamamoto are:  “I need you to pilot.” 

 

“Um…what?” Kamamoto blinks.

 

“Look,” Saruhiko snarls, “I don’t have time to explain.  Just…” he runs his fingers through his hair, “Just…Misaki is _dying_ in the breach and I need a partner so would you _please –_ “

 

“Wait hold up.”  Kamamoto throws his arms up, “Yata-san is _where?!”_

 

 _“Listen_.” Saruhiko snaps. “I don’t have _time_.  I just don’t know anyone else _Silverback_ would accept – you’re my only _hope_.”

 

Kamamoto bristles, “She never accepted me, according to _you_.”

 

“She _did_.” Saruhiko growls. “If she didn’t think you were worthy; you wouldn’t have been able to move one foot.”

 

Kamamoto sighs, “Yata-kun made it so I _could_.  She doesn’t want anyone but the two of you.”

 

“And I’m trying to get him _back!”_  Saruhiko slams his fists.  He growls in desperation, tears pool in his eyes and he pulls at the end of his hair in frustration.  “Look I…I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for anything I said to you; you _are_ a worthy pilot.  Worthy of being Misaki’s pilot, of anyone’s.  I’m desperate for _you_ because she knows you.”

 

Kamamoto stammers, “L-Like I said, Yata-kun – “

 

“Was the jumpstart,” Saruhiko pushes.  “If _Silverback_ truly didn’t want you – you wouldn’t have been there.” 

 

Kamamoto’s words die on his tongue.  “…do you really believe that?”

 

Saruhiko sucks a deep breath through his nostrils and shuts his eyes.  “We deduced that we have a ghost drift – it activates especially when at least one of us in _Silverback_.  The fact that you stood strong enough to overcome that for as long as you did – if me and Yata weren’t as connected as we are it would be you standing in my place right now.”

 

Kamamoto freezes, “How do you know he’s alive?” 

 

Saruhiko swallows, “I would know if he was dead,”  Saruhiko shudders, “Trust me I would.” 

 

Kamamoto sucks in a deep breath, “What do you need me to do?”

 

“Just come with me; I just need to get in _Silverback_ and close enough to the breach.  That’s all I need from you.”

 

“Okay.” Kamamoto breathes, “I’ll go.” 

 

 

 

Totsuka narrows his eyes.  “The irony in this situation is through the roof.”

 

Saruhiko glares, “Did you fix her?”

 

Totsuka runs his fingers through his hair and groans, “I can’t do any more than the basic repairs in an hour. I can’t do anything else for her – not if you need to take her out. She only has one escape pod.” 

 

Saruhiko’s half up the stairs to the hangar, “Whatever – she’ll do.”

 

Totsuka shuts his eyes and curses under his breath, “Just tell me what I have to say to stop you. This is stupid.  The seismic activity isn’t dwindling – Megalodon is going to come _back_.  If you go, Saruhiko, you will _die_.”

 

Saruhiko stops.  “If I have to die to bring him back – I will.” He snaps. 

 

Totsuka mumbles something to Kamamoto; his face reddens but he also brushes him off and follows Saruhiko into the hangar. 

 

“Totsuka,” Saruhiko calls,  “I won’t, though.  And I’ll bring him back – we both promised you, right?” 

 

“Yeah.” Totsuka chuckles – Saruhiko catches the light choke in his voice, “You both did. So – you both better come back. I owe you ice cream.”  Totsuka swallows and clutches his face into his hands, “But if only one of you can – and that _one_ is you – I’d prefer that over neither.”

 

Saruhiko blinks, “I…”

 

“I mean that.” Totsuka tells him. “Please don’t die for him, please don’t make me lose three special people all at once.”   

 

Saruhiko lowers his gaze, “None of us will lose two, either.”

 

Totsuka wears a watery smile, “Okay,” he relents.  “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

 

Saruhiko steps into _Silverback_ and tosses Totsuka one final smile.  Kamamoto follows him inside and the team straps them in.

 

Saruhiko feels the tension bleeding off them; the solemn aura surrounds the air and Saruhiko squeezes a fist against his chest.  “I’ll bring him back,” he whispers.  “I swear I will.” 

 

Connecting to Kamamoto is a lot simpler than Saruhiko pictured.  He slots into _Silverback_ easily; and the _Silverback_ that thrums between them _understands_. 

 

 _Let’s go get him_.

 

Kamamoto’s memories cloud over the drift. 

 

Saruhiko watches _Silverback_ sneer at him; she spits at him and waits for Misaki to coax her into allowing the drift to connect.   He watches Kamamoto quiver and beg each time; he watches Kamamoto’s utter desperation to pilot.

 

 _Sorry_.  Saruhiko thinks suddenly.  _That was…that was probably my fault._

 

 _Yeah._  Kamamoto agrees – Saruhiko feels the bitterness.  _That definitely was._  

 

They walk _Silverback_ to the edge of the ocean.  Kamamoto starts moving forward but Saruhiko stops him.  _No._ He shudders before he can help it.  _Just…just wait here.  I have to find him_. 

 

Kamamoto doesn’t understand – Saruhiko senses that – but he listens anyway, grudgingly waiting at the shore.

 

Saruhiko closes his eyes. He allows _Silverback_ to consume him, allows the feeling of Misaki’s warmth to swallow him. 

 

_Where are you?_

 

Saruhiko presses into all the corners of his drift – he tugs at it.  _Silverback_  lazily pushes back, but he can’t find him. 

 

Saruhiko’s heart clogs with fear – a lump in his throat shifts down into his chest.  He needs to breathe and cry at the same time and the pure desperation _burns_ down his spine.  _Silverback_ whimpers, she curls around him and nudges him softly. 

 

Saruhiko slams his eyes tightly – he forces his drift with _Silverback_ to thin.  He feels her lightly whining at the corner of his brain. 

 

_Please Misaki, my love, where are you?_

 

Saruhiko hears the faint sound of hissing. 

 

It sounds strange; the hissing sits just under _Silverback_ begging him to fall back into his drift with Kamamoto.  Saruhiko strains his ears to hear; he can’t make out words – but he feels blazing fire nipping at his toes.  It singes his skin; the pain nipping at his feet feels more _real_ than any drift before. 

 

Saruhiko remembers.

 

 _When I think about them – it hurts – I don’t know how they do that over a drift_.

 

Saruhiko’s heart stammers. 

 

_Misaki…can you hear me?_

 

Saruhiko waits with bated breath – it’s _agonizing_.

 

  _Don’t react_.

 

Saruhiko’s heart seizes. 

 

_Stop reacting! They’ll feel me talking to you._

 

Saruhiko bites his tongue until blood wells in his mouth; he focuses on the metallic taste to calm his beating heart.   _How do I save you?_

 

 _I don’t know_. 

 

Saruhiko bites harder on his tongue; forces down the urge to scream.  He must not react.  _Where are you now?_

 

 _Hiding_.  An image fills their drift.  He sees rows of Kaiju standing completely still; they stretch for _miles_.  Saruhiko swallows down the fear crawling up his throat.  The Kaiju don’t move – the drift morphs and Saruhiko finds Megalodon surrounded by an army of small people. 

 

The drift brings him closer.

 

Those are _not_ people. 

 

Saruhiko gasps – they’re spindly creatures about the size of humans – a loud hissing fills his ears.  Saruhiko grasps at his head, a sharp pain brews in the back of his brain.  “Fuck.” He snarls, “What is _that_?”

 

_They’re trying to find me._

 

“What do you mean?” Saruhiko demands.

 

 _I was_ wrong. _They never disconnected the drift – they understand much more about drifting than we ever_ have _.  They silenced it – and I’m struggling to do the same back.  If they find me – they’ll kill me for sure.  Everything we’ve planned up to this point – they know about it, they’ve been listening.  Saru, they know_ everything. 

 

Saruhiko bites his tongue to silence the raw fear building in his throat.  He lets the metallic taste of iron coat his mouth and counts down from ten.  _So, what do we do? How do I save you?_

_The breach is still our only chance.  They know what we’re planning – they don’t think it’s possible without me there.  If you come here – we have to do what we planned.  Don’t come here to save me – come here to fight them.  If we don’t stop this – my death will just be the first of many_. 

 

 _You won’t die_.  Saruhiko snarls. _None of us are going to die, okay? I won’t let that happen.  How do I get there?_

_I can bring you here.  It’s a strange thing – the breach takes you anywhere you want it to.  But you have to have a memory image of it._

_How do you suddenly know all of this?_

Saruhiko feels pain bloom at the base of his skull.  _I’m in their hivemind.  I’m a part of them now._

_So then…won’t destroying this hivemind kill you?_

Misaki doesn’t answer him. 

 

Saruhiko can’t hold in the fear and pain that swallow him.  They burst from his chest; the hissing grows louder.  Misaki screams something at him – Saruhiko can’t make it out but he feels the intense pain shooting down Misaki’s spine.  The drift swirls; Saruhiko reawakens in _Silverback_ choking for breath. 

 

Megalodon returns. 

 

“Holy shit.” Kamamoto breathes. 

 

Saruhiko hisses under his breath.  “It’s _back_.”

 

 **“Saruhiko.”**  Totsuka growls.  **“What exactly is your plan right now?”**

 

Saru shudders, “I have to go into the breach.” He whispers.  “That’s still the plan.” 

 

 **“Saru.”** Totsuka snarls. 

 

 **“He must, Totsuka-san.”**  Shiro says evenly.  **“Neko says he must.  You do understand how important this is, then?  May I ask, what Anna thinks of this?”**

Saruhiko hears Totsuka’s sharp breath, **“Anna does not want us to lose any more than what we have,”**

**“That kid is not dead.”**  It’s a female voice that responds.  **“Glasses boy spoke to him; he’s not dead.  If glasses boy goes in – they can save the world.”**

Totsuka sighs.  **“Saruhiko – what do you need them to do?”**

“Hold it off.” Saruhiko says.  “Just hold it off and let me go in.” 

 

 **“We can do that,”**  Shiro smirks, **“Do you agree Reisi?”**

**“I’m not about to let a group of kids upstage me.”** Saruhiko hears the grin in his voice.  **“Although Fushimi-kun – I know you’ve heard this multiple times today – I just ask that you return with Yata-kun in one piece.”**

“I will.” He promises. “It’s the end of all of us if I don’t,” 

 

 _Silverback_ rushes forward – Megalodon intercepts them and pounces.  _White Rice_ slides beneath her and uses its jets to force the Kaiju into the air.  It coughs for breath and scratches at the Jaeger’s wings.  

 

_Go….breach._

Saruhiko gasps, “Misaki?!”

 

_Go….breach…FAST._

 

Megalodon ignores the Jaeger attacking her – she spins on her heels and sprints for _Silverback_  with a shattering screech.  _Fire King_ slams against her – she knocks the Kaiju over into the ocean, but she kicks out its knees and swims for _Silverback_. 

 

 **“She’s obsessed with you!”**  Neko yells. 

 

“She knows I know too much,” Saruhiko hisses through gritted teeth.  _Where is this breach?_

 

 _Drift._  Misaki whimpers. _In  ghost drift!_

 

“Kamamoto.” Saruhiko inhales deeply – he snaps off his connection to Totsuka.  “I think I get it.” 

 

Kamamoto blinks, “What?”

 

“Get in the escape pod.” 

 

“What?! What do you mean?!” Kamamoto demands. 

 

“I know how to get into the breach – but you can’t be here, I can’t take you with us.”  Saruhiko looks at his hands.  “The breach isn’t a breach – it’s a _drift._  You can’t enter it – you can only drift into it.  Misaki’s got our ghost drift lodged in there – so only I can go.” 

 

“If I take the escape pod, then you’re screwed!” Kamamoto hisses.

 

“I _know!”_ Saruhiko snarls.  “I know but unless you’d rather die in my place – and take the whole damn world with you – we don’t have a choice!”

 

Kamamoto curls his hands into fists.  “I don’t particularly like you.”

 

Saruhiko arches an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”

 

“But.” Kamamoto continues, “I like Yata-san.  And I like being alive.  So, I don’t particularly like you – but good luck.” 

 

“Thank you.” Saruhiko smiles. He bites his lip, “If…if we don’t win…”

 

Kamamoto starts to argue but Saruhiko stops him quickly, “If we don’t win…I want you to have _Silverback._  Whatever remnants they’ll find of her – and I want you to pilot her.”

 

“I...I don’t have a partner,” Kamamoto mumbles.

 

“You’ll find one,” Saruhiko smiles, “You’ll definitely find one.”

 

“Fushimi-san, you – “

 

Saruhiko ejects him before he can finish.

 

Saruhiko watches the escape pod shoot off towards base.  “I really hope I don’t break all of these promises.”

 

 _I’m coming Misaki._  

 

Saru shuts his eyes and falls victim to the ghost drift. 

 

Saruhiko opens them to the same room. 

 

It feels different – the darkness seeps into his bones; it makes his skin crawl and Saruhiko can’t suppress the shudder climbing up his spine.  His Jaeger had gone with him; a testament to the fact that Saruhiko stands here in the flesh.  This is no drift; this is _real. Silverback_ stands out like a sore thumb; a giant hunk of metal trapped within a room of Kaiju surrounding her.   

 

His eyes fall upon the large ball of red fire; it’s the only source of light in the room.  He watches it dance across the eyes of the lifeless Kaiju and he shivers.  That’s what they _must_ destroy. 

 

Saruhiko carefully maps out his surroundings; eerie silence radiates.  The thickest sound is that of his own breathing; and even that Saruhiko inhales in small little gasps.  Such a small amount of oxygen burns sliding into his lungs; but the fear of getting caught settles in his chest and he can’t bring himself to breathe properly. 

 

Then, he hears _hissing_. 

 

Saruhiko gasps – he quickly slams his hands over his mouth.  The sound starts lightly at first – but it grows louder until Saruhiko watches a crowd of those _creatures_ running for him. 

 

Saruhiko’s first instinct screams to run. 

 

But those creatures are not chasing him – they’re chasing a small little thing sprinting as if his life depends on it. 

 

“Misaki!” Saruhiko screams. 

 

The fear etched onto Misaki’s face bleeds away; he pushes forward – Saruhiko watches him stumble.  He’s still encased in a ten-meter tall Jaeger – much too high  to see the injuries covering Misaki’s tiny body. 

 

But those creatures seem to understand the situation as well. 

 

A screeching hiss fills the room and one of them snatches Misaki by the arm. 

 

Misaki _screams_. 

 

His skin blisters; they start to burst and blood pours from his arm.  Misaki covers his other fist with the sleeve of his sweater and slams it into the creature’s nose.  It screeches and releases him.  Misaki cradles the injured arm against his chest and rushes forward.  

 

 _Move Silverback’s left! Use the ghost drift!_ Saruhiko yells. 

 

They run after him; another one reaches for him but _Silverback_ rushes forward and stomps on them.   Their bones crunch beneath her foot and Saruhiko relishes the feeling; he watches the blue blood spill like water and sick satisfaction settles into his heart. 

 

He snatches Misaki into _Silverback’s_ hand.  He lifts it up against the viewfinder before ripping the suit off and opening the hangar door to pull Misaki into a crushing hug. 

 

He squeezes Misaki against his chest; Saruhiko doesn’t realize tears fall from his eyes and he doesn’t hear the words falling form his mouth.  His heart slams against his rib cage; he runs his arms up and down Misaki’s torso – down Misaki’s arms, he rubs his fingers into his hair and touches every _inch_ his fingers can find.   He hears Misaki mumbling his name; he feels his soft fingers digging into the flesh of his back.

 

“Shut _up_.” Saruhiko chokes out.  “Shut the fuck up okay? I almost _lost_ you.” 

 

Misaki lets him squeeze him harder.  “We’re still not done,” Misaki gently reminds.  “We’re still far from it.”   

 

“What are we even supposed to _do?”_ Saruhiko demands. 

 

Misaki’s head falls against his chest, Saruhiko snakes his arms around his waist and just holds him there.  The feeling of Misaki’s small body pressed against him sends relief spiraling down his spine. 

 

Saruhiko notices, now.  Misaki’s body is littered with a variety of burns – some blisters have burst to reveal layers of exposed flesh.  Some remain intact; and Misaki hisses when Saruhiko brushes over them lightly.  Saruhiko holds Misaki’s face in his hands and finds bloodshot eyes hollowly looking back at him.  

 

The tearstains hurt the most, though.  Saruhiko lightly runs his fingers over Misaki’s cheeks; and the dried tear stains hurt his heart the most. 

 

Misaki lowers his gaze, and _oh.  You can hear me, can’t you?_   

 

“We have to blow it up,” Misaki mumbles instead.  “That’s the only way.  We have to blow this whole place up.  All of the Kaiju, all of the precursors.” 

 

“Are these the only ones?” Saruhiko questions.

 

“No.  But this is their biggest stash.  Rebuilding any of this would take an endless amount of years;  a long time after you and everyone we know is gone – if they can even do that.”  Misaki glares at his hands.  “The only way I can think of is slamming _Silverback_ into it.”

 

“We would both die.” Saruhiko whispers.  “There’s not even an escape pod.”

 

“We would.” Misaki agrees.  “If the breach works how I think it does – maybe we can pull out the last second with a memory – but that’s…probably not possible.” 

 

“But the alternative…” Saruhiko shivers.

 

“Yeah.” Misaki whispers, “The alternative is worse.” 

 

Saruhiko runs his fingers through Misaki’s hair and cradles his cheek into his hand.  “Totsuka’s gonna kill me for this,” 

 

Misaki smiles lamely, “Good thing you can’t die twice.” 

 

Saruhiko shuffles to his feet and holds out his hand, “So, Yata Misaki, you and I are gonna save the world, huh?”

 

Yata accepts the hand.  “Who else would I do it with if not Fushimi Saruhiko?” 

 

They strap each other in – if they allow their hands to linger too long; neither of them says it. 

 

“It won’t work,” Yata starts.  “But just…think of the ocean.  If there’s any hope that we make it out alive, that’s a good a place as any to come back.” 

 

“Okay,” Saruhiko agrees.  “Let’s do it.”

 

Yata closes his eyes and carefully breathes in.  The precursors claw at _Silverback’s_ ankles.  But their touch can’t burn the metal like they singe through his skin.  He feels the sinking feeling of Kaiju slowly opening their eyes.  “They Kaiju are waking up,” He snarls.  “All of them at once – as many as they can manage.  So, we have to move _now_.”  

 

 _Silverback_ takes off in a sprint faster than Yata’s ever forced her to go. 

 

He hears the sound of screeching Kaiju awakening behind them, and loud hissing instructing them.  The fear of death crawls up his throat; and across their drift – he feels it settle into the nook of Saru’s heart as well.  But, well, Yata has a lot of people he wants to live.

 

He thinks of Totsuka’s knowing smile. 

 

The small, little sliver of orange light comes near.

 

Saru thinks of Anna’s kind smile.

 

The fire starts to burn, the edges of _Silverback’s_ metal coat starts to melt.

 

Yata thinks of Kamamoto’s raw determination.  And of Kusanagi’s cigarette-coated smell.

 

Sweat accumulates on their foreheads and pain shoots down their spines.

 

Saru thinks of Reisi’s fair authority. 

 

“For our friends,” Yata whispers.  The ball of fire comes closer and closer until he can only see bright light shrouding his vision.  He feels Kaiju tugging at _Silverback’s_ metal – he feels them clawing at her back and the bits of wire that come loose. 

 

“For our friends.” Saru agrees. 

 

They activate _Silverback’s_ cannons and fall into the blaring light. 

 

Yata slams his eyes shut and pulls out a memory. 

 

_Misaki lays on the sand – the lull of sleep tugging at his eyes.  “Hey, Saru?”_

_“Hm?” Saru hums beside him, lazily thrumming his fingers through Misaki’s hair – he has a laptop laid open on his lap, but all he focuses on are the soft locks that slip between his fingers.  The movements pull Yata in and out of consciousness._

_“Promise you’ll never leave?”_

_Saru chuckles; Yata relishes the soft rumble that comes from his throat.  “Stupid.  Of course I won’t.”_

_“You didn’t promise,” Misaki clicks his tongue._

_“I promise I won’t leave.”_

_Misaki settles his face into the towel.  He loves the soft sand filling his toes, the beautiful ocean air filling his nostrils, the sound of waves crashing around them, but most of all – he loves Fushimi Saruhiko pressed beside him.  “Me too,” he whispers before he falls asleep.  “Me too.”_

 

 

Yata opens his eyes to waves lapping at his ankles and sand curling between his toes. 

 

He snaps his neck and finds Saru staring out at the ocean – at the remaining two Jaeger that hold a Kaiju head separated from its body.  “We did it.” Saruhiko gasps.  “

 

A smile claws up Yata’s face.  His burns sting like a _bitch_.  His whole body hurts that way – but he can’t _care_.  He can’t care one bit.

 

He jumps on Saru and yanks him by the collar to pull him into a kiss.  It’s sloppy – stupidly so – their teeth knock together and Yata’s smiling too big to really slot their mouths together properly.  But he can’t _care_.  

 

Saru slides his arms around his waist, pushes them into his shirt to rest against the bare skin of his back and Yata kisses him even _harder_. 

 

He can’t bring himself to care.

 

They did _it_. 

 

“If you boys are done – I would very much like to kill you for scaring the ever-loving shit out of me.”

 

Totsuka stands before them with disheveled hair, heaving for breath and barefoot. 

 

But like Yata – he can’t quite stop smiling either. 

 

Yata laughs, loud and boisterous and curls his face into Saru’s neck. 

 

“Maybe we should have let the Kaiju get us after all,” 

 

“The Kaiju aren’t gonna buy you ice cream.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yata packs the last of his stuff away. 

 

He stretches the muscles of his back and stares at the empty room and release a sigh.  “I’m gonna miss this place, believe it or not.” 

 

Saru lays stretched out on his bed – he fiddles with the bandages loosely tangled around Yata’s arms.  “You need to change these again,” he mumbles. 

 

Yata scoffs and rolls his eyes, “It’s been two weeks; the burns are practically healed by now,”

 

Saru wrinkles his nose and frowns, “You should still keep them covered,”

 

Yata pushes the last of his boxes out the door and falls beside Saruhiko.  He curls his face into his chest and huffs, “Since when did you have a medical degree?”

 

Saruhiko clicks his tongue, but he snakes an arm under Yata’s neck to lightly play with his hair.  They sit like that, for a long time – basking in each other’s presence, enjoying the peace that surrounds them.  “Hey.” Yata begins,  “What are we gonna do now?”

 

Saruhiko frowns, “Did you have any plans?”

 

“Kusanagi is opening a bar….A lot of people are joining him there.  I think…I think I would like to go,” Yata twiddles his thumb.  “He offered housing,” 

 

Saruhiko’s frown deepens.  “Reisi is starting a task force – sort of like the police.  I…I was thinking of joining that as well.  He also offered dorms.” 

 

“Oh.”  Yata settles deeper into the crook of Saruhiko’s neck and curls his arms around his torso.  “I mean…it was just an offer…we could join them.  But we could…get an apartment again?  Just the two of us?”

 

Saruhiko’s frown morphs into a smile.  “Yeah.” He mumbles, he flips over and speaks against the hollow of Yata’s throat and plants a kiss there.  “I would really like that.” 

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's still one hour left of monday where i live soooo...hey I did it! I actually finished this and was (sorta) always on time with my updates!!! 
> 
> Annnnnd that’s a wrap, folks! 
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who commented, kudosed, and even just silently read this little summer adventure with me! I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it!!! 
> 
> I'm thankful for each and every one of you :)

**Author's Note:**

> i really wanted a productive way to spend this summer 
> 
> so ill just go ahead and do this instead - updates every monday!! 
> 
> and also - the title is unapologetically a lyric out of Young Volcanoes by fall out boy because i'm secretly a 5-year-old that likes about 4 things and must incorporate them into everything i do....i'm sorry i'm a reallllly big nerd


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